In His Touch
by Animerity
Summary: WWIII is beginning. England is struggling. France realizes if he doesn't do something, England will fall. They may have fought, they may have had their differences, but can those be overcome? human names also used. Boyxboy. M for implied
1. Chapter 1

"So, since we're going to eat, is this a date?" Francis asked, smirking at the Brit who was driving. Not taking his eyes from the road, Arthur scowled.

"No," he replied simply. "_I'm _going to get a chocolate frosty and some fries while _you_ are going to get _nothing_."

Francis pouted and then grabbed the wheel, swerving the car just before it collided with another. Arthur might be good at driving a car on British streets but he certainly needed to work on his American driving skills.

"_Mon ami,_" Francis said in a shaky voice. "You told me you knew how to drive in America."

"I _do, _you bloody git," Arthur snapped. "I just forgot for a moment," he added in a mumble.

Arthur pulled up in the drive-through at Wendy's and ordered in a sharp voice. _It's not like I'm going to eat any of that fatty McDonald's food, _Arthur had said earlier. Francis sighed. Even though he and Arthur had come to stay at Alfred's house for a few days, Arthur's mood had only gotten worse.

Russia, along with North Korea, was getting ready to conquer the entire globe. That much they knew. No matter how much all the countries pleaded, Ivan had completely lost his grasp on sanity. He had also told them that he intended to strike England first, to prevent England's forces from joining the battle.

Despite Arthur's protests, Francis had dragged him away to America, where several countries were meeting to discuss what to do to either prevent a third world war or make sure that Ivan lost. Francis had thought Arthur would loosen up around Alfred and the mild-mannered Matthew, who had come down to visit. Arthur, however, had only grown more tense and moody, snapping at everyone.

How Francis had convinced Arthur to go see a movie that day, much less let Francis come along, was still a mystery. It had been an interesting movie and Arthur had gotten so absorbed in the plot that not even Francis's teasing distracted him. The salty smell of French fries snapped Francis from his thoughts.

"Do I get some?" Francis asked, already reaching toward the fries. Arthur slapped his hand away and Francis pulled it back, frowning.

"No," Arthur managed through a mouthful of chocolate and fries. "These are just for me. You bloody well know how I get when I'm hungry!" Francis smiled at that.

"You turn into a bitch," he replied calmly. Arthur growled but didn't say anything else.

The rest of the car ride was filled with music from the radio. Arthur sang along when his mouth wasn't full and Francis found himself amused at Arthur's British accent.

"Something funny, frog?" Arthur demanded, stopping in the middle of a song. Francis tried to put on a serious face.

"Of course not," he answered but, in the end, couldn't keep the grin off his face. As Arthur hit his shoulder, hard, Francis burst out laughing. "I'm sorry, but your accent singing those American songs made me smile!"

"Well, stop smiling," Arthur snapped, the barest hint of a blush coloring his cheeks. "It's not funny." Francis snorted.

"Of course not!" he said, nodding, but kept laughing. Arthur's cheeks colored further and he didn't speak for the rest of the car ride.

Pulling into Alfred's driveway with a sharp jerk, Arthur stopped the car in its designated spot and got out, ignoring Francis who was still trying to apologize for laughing at him.

"Dude, you're back!" Alfred exclaimed as Arthur walked through the front door. Alfred gathered Arthur into a large hug and the smaller nation found that he couldn't escape.

"Get off, America! You're smothering me!" Arthur said gruffly and Alfred released him, still grinning.

"How'd you like the movie?" Alfred asked, waving to Francis as he followed Arthur in.

"It was okay," Arthur replied nonchalantly. Francis laughed and Arthur resisted the urge to turn around and punch the man in the face.

"He was so into the movie that I couldn't distract him from it!" Francis told Alfred, laying a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "I think it was good for him though." Arthur shrugged Francis's hand off and nodded to Matthew who was finishing up making some maple cookies in the kitchen.

"If you don't mind, I'm going to retire to my room," Arthur said as casually as he could. "I suddenly have a terrible headache and am exhausted. Please do not disturb me." Before any of the three countries could say a thing, Arthur walked up the stairs.

* * *

><p>Arthur closed the door behind him and then flopped on the king sized bed that had been provided for him. He was tired of Francis; Francis, who knew nothing, understood nothing, and didn't care to. Arthur sighed, burying his face in a soft white pillow. He breathed in the scent that was half Alfred and half laundry detergent. It calmed him slightly.<p>

The attack on the world, beginning with England, could come any day now. Arthur shivered and crawled under the covers. Francis had said that coming to America would help Arthur stop thinking about what was going to happen, but how could Arthur not think about it?

Arthur could feel the tension of his people and knew that riots were about to break out. As if an imminent war wasn't bad enough. But Arthur had dealt with worse pain before. He was sure he could deal with whatever came his way. With those thoughts swirling inside his mind, Arthur fell into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

><p>"Yo, England, you with us?" Alfred's voice jolted Arthur out of his daydreaming.<p>

"Ah, yes," he replied, trying to remain dignified. Alfred raised an eyebrow at the man but Arthur ignored him.

"So the meeting is going to be tomorrow," Alfred continued, looking around his table at Matthew, Francis, and Arthur. "Do you already know what you're going to say?"

"Of course we have to at least try to stop this war before it begins," Francis answered matter-of-factly. Arthur, who was still not completely awake, shivered as the Frenchman's accent reached his ears. "Arthur, are you cold?" Francis asked quickly. Arthur shook his head and shoveled more food into his mouth.

Francis had cooked that night so the food was more than edible, but Arthur wasn't about to tell him that. Francis frowned and moved closer to Arthur who eyed him warily. Touching Arthur's forehead briefly, which made the man flinch, Francis's frown deepened.

"Are you feeling all right, _mon ami_?" Francis queried. Arthur nodded.

"I am still tired from my nap but I feel perfectly fine," he responded casually, moving away from Francis. Finishing the last bite of his meal, Arthur wiped his mouth and then cleared his throat. "I regret to inform you, however, that I will be leaving for my home in the morning. I'm afraid I will miss the meeting."

"Dude, you can't leave!" Alfred protested. "We need you to be there!" Arthur rolled his eyes.

"You already know my opinion," Arthur said dismissively. "I will do anything to prevent this war, and I _do_ mean anything. We don't need another world war. Nevertheless, should a war begin, despite anything we do, I will also do anything, ally with anyone, provide any number of troops, to end the war as quickly as possible."

"Would you be in favor of attacking Ivan first?" Francis asked in a soft voice. Arthur thought for a moment.

"I believe that we should refrain from preventing war with war," he replied slowly. "But I will abide by whatever the other countries decide. As I said, I don't want this war to occur." Alfred, Matthew, and Francis stared at him.

"You'd be willing to ally with France?" Alfred said.

"Of course," Arthur replied without a moment's hesitation. "I've done so before and I can do it again."

"I still think that you should remain here to come to the meeting," Francis pressed. "We need your opinion."

"You already have my opinion," Arthur retorted. "Just tell them that and that will be fine. Don't worry," Arthur added. "I'm not going to let you get hurt. No matter what I have to do, even if I have to ignore you telling me _not_ to help, I will not let you get hurt." Francis looked at Arthur.

"You think that is what this is about?" Francis questioned softly. "I care not for my safety. I just want you to be here with us, in case something should go wrong." Arthur scowled.

"If something does go wrong, I need to be with my people," Arthur snapped. "I am going home as early as I can tomorrow morning. Tell the other countries my opinions and let me know what is decided as immediately as you can." Alfred nodded.

"Will do, bro," he said, smiling grimly. "Once you make your mind up, there really is no stopping you." Arthur nodded curtly, accepting the comment, and then rose to leave.

"If you'll excuse me, gentlemen," Arthur said, picking up his dishes. "I need to pack and then get to bed. It is already late." The clock on the mantle did read 11:30PM. "I will be up a few minutes more to arrange for my voyage tomorrow and then will retire. If you need something, don't bother me."

* * *

><p>"What time is it?" Arthur groaned groggily, poking Francis's arm. Sometime after Arthur had gone to bed, Francis had come in and, "to relieve the tension," as Francis had said, they had enjoyed a few rounds of rough sex. Afterwards, they had lain in Arthur's bed together, not speaking, just being together.<p>

"About 2AM," Francis mumbled back. Arthur sighed.

"It's going to be your fault when they have to carry me off my plane because I'm asleep," Arthur grumbled, shifting Francis away and off of himself. He was about to attempt to get dressed but decided he didn't really want to bother getting up to do it. Besides, Francis was sure not going to get dressed any time soon.

"Or when you're so tired you don't hear your alarm," Francis returned, grinning sleepily. "Please don't leave," he added after a moment, pulling Arthur to him again.

"I _am _leaving, no matter what you say or do," Arthur retorted, trying to get away from Francis. "Bloody hell, France! Get off me and let me get some sleep!" Francis kissed Arthur's neck, sending shivers up and down the man's body.

"You weren't complaining less than an hour ago," Francis purred. "And why can't you just call me Francis?" Arthur mumbled something under his breath but didn't clarify, even after Francis asked.

"Just go to sleep or go to your own room," Arthur said, falling back asleep, despite wanting to throw Francis out. Francis didn't bothering replying with any more than a kiss on Arthur's cheek. "Fine then," Arthur murmured, already half asleep. "But I'm still leaving in the morning, you frog…" With that, Arthur fell asleep, France curled around him from behind.


	2. Chapter 2

_Hey there, it's me, the author of this…story. In Silence Hidden. You can just call me Sy. [pronounced like the English word: SIGH] (Seriously, you can, or you can call me nothing at all. Whatever you want!)_

_Firstly, a BIG thank you to all who have favorited this, put this on your list, or reviewed! It put the biggest grin on my face to see all of that in my inbox when I checked my email! So thanks! Secondly, I know you've already read this, but I changed some stuff since I wasn't happy with how it turned out. I wrote it really quickly yesterday so that I could get it up for all of you to read and I didn't like how I wrote some things. So I went through and edited and corrected and all that great stuff. If you want to read it again, you can! Or, if you don't, that's okay too! It's basically the same story anyway. _

* * *

><p>It had already been five days since Arthur left Alfred's house. He had managed to sneak out without waking Francis and then had hurried to his own plane. Now, back in his own home, Arthur was beginning to feel the pains of the riots breaking out across all of England.<p>

He sighed, setting down his teacup once again without taking a sip. He should be hearing about the decision of the other countries soon. He only hoped that one of them would remember to bring him a copy of what had happened along with the final conclusion.

His phone rang suddenly, making him start and then hiss as his hot tea scalded his leg when it spilled. At its insistent ringing, Arthur cursed loudly and then made his way over to the phone. He really needed to keep the phone nearby.

"Hello?" he answered gruffly.

"_Hey there, Iggy!_" The cheerful voice on the other end of the line was clearly audible even with the phone held as far away as possible which was what Arthur was currently doing.

"Oh, hello, America," Arthur returned stiffly. "So the debating is over, I assume?"

"_Just finished up this morning! You should have been there! I was awesome, as usual!_" Alfred replied, his voice loud and obnoxious. Arthur rolled his eyes but smiled slightly. Alfred was still his usual self.

"Do you think you could tone it down a bit?" Arthur asked sarcastically. "You ruddy well almost blew my ear drum out." Alfred snickered.

"_Sorry, dude!_" he apologized. "_I just wanted to call and tell you not to kill me when you get the results of the debate!_" Strangely, Alfred was still chuckling. Arthur frowned.

"What are you talking about?" he asked seriously. "Did something go wrong?" Alfred was starting to laugh even more loudly now.

"_No, nothing went wrong! I just don't think you're going to like the delivery boy!_" Alfred answered. "_As I said, don't kill me! All right! Talk to you later, Ig!_"

"Wait!" Arthur shouted. "Ameri—Alfred! Don't you dare hang up this phone!" But it was too late. Alfred hung up. Arthur stared at the phone a minute more before slamming it angrily back down. "He just doesn't know how to follow orders," he mumbled, irritated. "But I wonder who's going to deliver the information?" he added to himself, sitting back down with his book.

Just as he was getting good and comfortable, the doorbell rang. Cursing under his breath, Arthur stood up slowly and walked over to the door. Peering through the peephole, Arthur cursed again and abruptly turned and sat back down, despite the doorbell ringing again. What was Alfred thinking? As if Arthur was going to answer the door for that bloody imbecile.

"_Mon ami! _It is I!" a voice called cheerfully from the other side of the door.

"As if I don't already know who it is," Arthur muttered to himself, not moving.

"Open the door!" the voice continued. "Don't you want to see my beautiful face?"

"Uh, no," Arthur said sarcastically, still to himself.

"Then I will have to grace you with my presence despite what you say!" There was silence for a moment and then the doorknob rattled. A few seconds later, the door opened and in swept Francis, smelling of wine and roses.

Arthur crinkled his nose and decided to try ignoring the idiot. Francis pouted but then waltzed over to Arthur and kissed him on the forehead.

"What the bloody—?" Arthur began but was cut off by Francis's mouth over his own. "France!" Arthur roared, shoving Francis backwards so hard that Francis fell over. "What have I told you about doing that?" Francis, from his spot on the floor, pretended to think for a moment.

"I believe you said something about _not_ doing that?" he replied calmly. "But I can't help where my lips go!" Arthur rolled his eyes and went back to reading his book. "Arthur?" Francis asked after a moment. Arthur didn't reply. "Don't you want to know how I got in?"

Arthur paused. He wanted Francis to leave but also wanted to know how to prevent him from getting inside in the future. But if he took the bait, he was also sure he was going to regret it later.

"Fine," Arthur sighed. "How did you get inside?" Francis grinned triumphantly and stood up, holding something in his hand.

"You gave me a key a while back!" he replied. When Arthur looked confused, Francis explained, "You asked me to watch after your house while you went on a long trip, remember? You never did ask for the key back." Arthur scowled.

"Well I'm asking now. Give it back," he said. Francis "tsked" at him.

"That's not asking," he said, still smiling. "That's demanding." Arthur fought the urge to strangle Francis.

"Please give it back," Arthur managed to get out through his gritted teeth. Francis thought a moment.

"No," he answered. "I like this key! It helps me in times like this!" Arthur stood up suddenly and reached for the key. Francis moved it before Arthur could grab it.

"France, give it back!" Arthur ordered in an angry tone, leaping at the key again. Francis laughed out loud and kept moving the key.

Suddenly, Arthur grabbed a large pillow from his couch and swept Francis off his feet and onto the floor on his back. Arthur immediately leapt on top of him, straddling him and pinning him to the ground.

"Give. Me. The. Key. Now," Arthur growled, green eyes flashing, his face close to Francis's.

Francis felt his heartbeat quicken and all the warmth in his face seemed to go right down to his groin. Arthur would know in just a moment exactly what he was doing to Francis. Arthur must have either thought of it himself or already knew because his face turned a bright red and he stood up rather quickly.

"Just give it to me," Arthur grumbled, holding his hand out and not looking at Francis. Francis grabbed Arthur's hand instead of placing the key in it and Arthur grudgingly helped him up. "Are you going to give it to me or what?" Arthur asked again. Francis leaned in and stole a quick kiss, leaving Arthur spluttering.

"I'm not," Francis admitted, smiling. "But don't you want what I actually came here to deliver?"

"Most certainly not!" Arthur retorted. "Keep it to yourself!"

"You don't want the results of the meeting?" Francis asked, confused. Arthur blinked.

"Oh, that," he said in a monotone. "Yeah, I want that." Francis's mouth quirked upwards into a smirk.

"What were _you_ thinking of, _mon ami?_" Francis purred, sidling towards Arthur who took a step back.

"N-nothing!" he protested, cursing himself. "Just give me the damn results!" Francis looked at him a moment longer. "What?" Arthur snapped, feeling self conscious.

"Here you go, _Angleterre_," Francis said in a soft voice, handing Arthur a small packet. "Mathieu had the idea to video record the whole meeting so that you could also see what was going on." Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"That was kind of him," Arthur remarked. "Aren't you going to tell me what the final decision was?" Francis paused and looked away.

"No," Francis replied. Arthur didn't say anything.

"All right then," Arthur said finally, breaking the silence. "Thanks for bringing this by." He moved toward the door but Francis's hand on his arm stopped him. "What is it now?" he asked in an irritated voice.

"Can I stay here for a few days?" Francis asked. Arthur was surprised.

"You're actually asking?" Arthur queried, shock evident on his face. Francis chuckled.

"Well, yes," he said. Arthur looked around, trying to come up with an excuse to send Francis home, but the truth was, he wanted Francis to stay. There were a lot of things on Arthur's mind that he'd rather not think about alone.

"You…" Arthur began. "You can stay until tomorrow," he said. "That's it." Francis smiled softly, an expression that was very different from his normal, perverted grins. It made something inside Arthur feel strange.

"Thank you," Francis whispered, pulling Arthur to him. Burying his face in Arthur's hair, Francis continued, "I just want to help…" Arthur pulled away roughly and didn't let Francis see the small smile on his face. The last thing he needed was for the idiot to think he was happy he was staying.

"If you're going to stay here, you might as well make yourself useful," Arthur called over his shoulder, walking into the kitchen to dump the rest of his tea down the sink. He normally didn't hold for such waste of tea but he certainly wasn't going to save it till later.

"Of course," Francis said, following Arthur. "I can cook all the meals and clean the kitchen like I always do."

"It's not like you're over here _that_ often," Arthur shot back. "But yeah, that sounds fine." Francis got busy checking what food there was available.

"Ah, _mon amor!_" Francis exclaimed. "I must go shopping for food at once! I cannot cook with these tasteless items!" Arthur scowled.

"First, don't call me that," he snapped. "Second, this food is does the job when I'm cooking for myself but if you want to go shopping this late in the afternoon, go ahead." Francis gathered up a basket and went to the door.

"Is it all right if I use your car?" he asked. Arthur nodded.

"You know where the keys are," he replied, heading up to his room. "I'm just going to watch this while you're gone." Arthur held up the packet Francis had given him. Francis's smile vanished.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Francis said in a serious tone.

"Take your time," Arthur said dismissively. "Bye." With that, he walked up the stairs before Francis had time to get out the door or return the farewell.

* * *

><p>Arthur was staring blankly at the screen of his TV. The video of the meeting had just ended and Francis wasn't back yet.<p>

_I'm sure he got stuck in afternoon traffic, _Arthur thought to himself.

The decision of all the countries was to take preventive measures against Ivan. Making more weapons, readying their armies. No one really wanted to ally together and Arthur was sure they wouldn't ally until a major tragedy occurred and it was shown that no one could win alone. But it was a different part of the decision that made Arthur's blood run cold.

"_What about Russia's threat on England?" _Francis had demanded. _"Surely we're going to do something to aid England!" _The other countries had talked about it for a few minutes, which Arthur supposed was better than nothing. Then the verdict had been made.

"_We have no time, money, or forces to lend England," _the spokesperson had said. _"England is on its own. But if it falls, which it surely will if it is indeed where Russia will strike first, then it will give the rest of us time to prepare. It will also let us know exactly how strong Russia and North Korea are. So, you see, it benefits everyone." _

Francis, along with Alfred, Matthew, and a few other countries like Germany and Italy, had protested mightily and had gotten very violent, but that hadn't changed anything.

"_Why are you so willing to protect one country over the fate of the entire world?"_ the other countries had yelled. And that was that.

Arthur shuddered and drew his legs in towards his chest. What was he supposed to do now?

* * *

><p>Arthur was in the middle of taking a relaxing shower when he heard his front door slam and someone singing. He sighed. Obviously Francis was back. <em>Took him long enough, <em>Arthur grumbled to himself.

"Oh, you're taking a shower~!" Francis sang, coming up the stairs. "Are you in there masturbating and thinking of me, perhaps?" Arthur scowled and blushed.

"No I'm bloody well not!" he shouted back just as Francis came into the bathroom. "And get out of here!" Francis put on his best pouty face and then pulled back the shower curtain.

"But, Arthur!" he protested and then almost swallowed his tongue at the sight before him. It took all he had not to jump Arthur right then and there. Arthur must have known what Francis was thinking as he eyed him because Arthur's face suddenly resembled a tomato.

"Get out!" he roared, shoving Francis and yanking the curtain closed. "Go start dinner! I'm hungry!" Francis took a moment to recover and find his voice again before replying.

"All right!" Francis said, pretending to be irritated. "Can I go get rid of my hard-on first?" he asked teasingly. Before Arthur could reply, he laughed and then darted out of the bathroom.

Arthur suddenly found that his shower was no longer relaxing.

* * *

><p>Dinner was, of course, delicious. Arthur ate every bite and, sheepishly, asked for seconds. Francis teased him mercilessly and Arthur snapped right back. After dinner, Arthur put in a movie and sat down to watch while Francis cleaned the kitchen. After he was done cleaning, Francis sat down on the couch next to Arthur and was surprised when Arthur leaned against him.<p>

Even after the movie was over, neither country moved. Arthur shuddered and Francis quickly put an arm around him. Arthur froze but then moved to get more comfortable. Arthur let out a sigh as he rested his head against Francis's chest.

"France…?" Arthur began in a soft voice.

"Hm?" Francis replied, a small smile on his face.

"I…" Arthur paused and Francis looked down to see what the matter was. Arthur looked back up at him, a foreign emotion in his eyes. "I'm afraid," Arthur whispered. Francis felt as though he couldn't breathe. "I'm so afraid," Arthur repeated, looking down. "I watched the video," he continued. "And I think I already knew that was going to be the decision."

"_Mon ami,_" Francis began but Arthur cut him off, sitting up suddenly.

"I did," Arthur said firmly. "And even if I had been at that meeting, I know it wouldn't have changed anything. Thank you for sticking up for me," Arthur said after a moment. "But there was nothing that could have changed that outcome."

"Arthur," Francis murmured, face sad. "You'll be all right."

"No, France, I won't," Arthur replied. "You know I won't."

"I know nothing of the sort," Francis answered stubbornly. Arthur sighed and then reached out a hand to touch Francis's cheek, looking up and down Francis's body. Arthur slowly traced his hand down Francis's chest and then back up to his face. Francis stared at Arthur, trying not to move; trying not to shatter the moment.

"If only I could memorize this," Arthur sighed, stroking Francis's cheek slowly. "Then maybe I…" Arthur stopped and looked Francis in the eye. "Kiss me," he said suddenly. Francis blinked.

"Wh-what?" he stammered, startled.

"Kiss me," Arthur repeated. When Francis still hesitated Arthur growled, tugging on Francis's blue tie, "Kiss me, dammit."

Francis leaned forward, putting an arm around Arthur's waist, and kissed him passionately. When he pulled away, he saw that there was a small smile on Arthur's face.

"I," Arthur said and then stopped. Francis looked at him expectantly. "Kiss me," Arthur said simply.

Francis did so, pulling Arthur onto his lap.

"Desperately," Arthur said and then stopped again.

Francis raised an eyebrow and when Arthur didn't say anything more, he kissed him, adding a bit of tongue this time.

"Love," Arthur said, a bit breathlessly.

Francis kissed him long and deep and then soft and gentle; over and over until Arthur looked as though he was about to pass out. Then Francis pulled back and looked at Arthur, waiting for the next word.

"That's all I'm going to say," Arthur said, a smirk on his well-kissed lips.

" 'I desperately love…' " Francis said, putting the words together. "…what?" he finished. "What do you desperately love?" Arthur's smirk grew.

"You have to wait to find out," he said, resting his head on Francis's shoulder as his legs straddled the man. Francis kissed the back of Arthur's neck tenderly and then let the exhausted man fall asleep.

Only, Arthur wasn't asleep as soon as Francis thought he was. That particular sentence he had begun was never supposed to be uttered. Arthur had forbidden himself ever to say it quite a few years ago. The only reason he had broken that promise was because of the sudden realization he had come to.

He, Arthur, the country of England, was going to die.

* * *

><p><em>For those of you worried about Iggy (and I know you're worrying) just keep reading! While I won't promise the end is happy, or that the end is sad, I will say that you probably won't be expecting it. (A few out there who think like me may be able to figure it out.) Just keep reading! <em>


	3. Chapter 3

_This one's kind of short. Sorry guys, but more soon! I promise! I actually expected this chapter to be longer but it just ended in the right spot so I decided that would be that. I'll try to write as much as I can tomorrow and have another chapter up._

* * *

><p>Arthur was showering again. Not that he just showered all the time, it was because it was already late afternoon and he had gotten dirty while working in his garden. He, unlike some, actually liked to be clean when he wandered around the house. He wanted to feel comfortable in his house and he did <em>not<em> feel comfortable when he was grimy.

"I guess Francis is gone," Arthur hummed aloud to himself, beginning to rinse off. He sighed loudly as the warm water coursed over his skin. Not that he had wanted the big love addict to stay but it wasn't always a good thing to live alone. It got one talking to oneself.

Suddenly the front door slammed downstairs and Arthur started. Had he locked the door? He hurriedly tried to think and realized he hadn't. _Bloody hell, _Arthur cursed to himself. _I need to remember to lock it! _

He quickly shut off the shower and, suds still in his hair, reached for his bathrobe. Whoever had just walked into his house was going to hear from him, no matter if they were embarrassed by his state or not. Grabbing his old sword since it was the only thing nearby—how had he lost his new gun anyway?—he raced downstairs, ready to slice whoever it was in two.

He heard the banging of pots and pans in the kitchen. Was someone trying to rob him? _Oh no!_ Arthur suddenly remembered the secret stash of croissants he had in one of the cupboards. How had he forgotten about that? And Francis had cooked last night! He could have found them! No matter, Arthur was still going to run that bloody thief out of his kitchen.

Standing, sword at the ready, Arthur pressed himself against the wall as silently as he could. Just as the banging stopped, he leapt out into the kitchen, immediately swishing his sword up to the thief's neck. There was a crash and something wet splattered across Arthur's bare feet but he ignored it.

"Who the bloody hell—?" he began angrily and then stopped short.

Standing there at sword point was Francis.

"H-hi there," Francis said nervously, hands up in the air. "I swear I was just going to start preparing dinner."

Arthur, still not moving his sword, glanced down at the floor and saw that Francis had dropped a bottle of wine on the floor in surprise.

"Y-you startled me, Arthur," Francis stammered, also glancing down. "Do you think…c-could you move your sword now? …please?"

Arthur blinked and then looked back at Francis's face and saw that a small trickle of blood was sliding down the Frenchman's pale throat. Arthur had actually cut him. Hm, so the sword was still sharp. _Good to know, _Arthur thought to himself.

"Oh, yeah, sorry," Arthur said absentmindedly, dropping his arm to his side. "I thought you were gone already." Francis smiled uncertainly as he began to clean the remains of the wine bottle and its contents from the floor.

"No, _mon ami,_" he replied. "I went shopping for ingredients for tonight's dinner. I left you a note…" Arthur suddenly saw the note sitting on the side of a counter top.

"Oh, uh…" Arthur tried to think of an excuse. "It's been a long day," he said finally. "I had a long meeting all morning and then had tons of chores to do when I got home. I was just in the middle of…" He trailed off.

"A shower, I see," Francis said, smirking as he picked a large piece of glass from the floor. "You still have soap in your hair, _mon cher._" Arthur blushed lightly.

"Yeah," he said slowly. "I was showering and I heard the front door open. I thought you were a thief." Francis laughed.

"What would anyone steal from you?" he asked, chuckling. Arthur scowled.

"I _do _have nice things you know," he snapped.

"And I once had this extremely nice bottle of fine wine," Francis lamented. "You realize that it took me three hours to find this? I went to every store asking for their best wine and they tried to hand me garbage! Eventually I met a man who knew what he was doing and he gave me this." Francis sighed and ran a large hand through his blond hair, freeing some of it from its sloppy ponytail. "And now it is in ruins."

"I _told _you," Arthur began, about to explain again but was suddenly cut off.

"Francis, love, you left this in the car and I brought you an extra wine bottle, just in case," a feminine voice said and a woman with straight black hair suddenly walked into the kitchen. She eyed Arthur up and down and then ignored him, handing Francis a shopping bag with something in it. She kissed him lightly and then took Francis's arm. "Who is this?" she asked, and Arthur decided that the only blue eyes he liked were those of Alfred and Francis.

"Thank you, _mon amor,_" Francis said to her."This is Arthur Kirkland," Francis continued, as if nothing was wrong. "This is his house. Arthur, this is Katarina Morgan. I met her at one of your British markets and invited her to dinner." Arthur just stared.

"Nice to meet you," the woman, Katarina, said, smiling at him.

"Yeah," Arthur managed to say after a moment.

"Shall I put this in a cupboard?" Katarina asked Francis who nodded.

"Yes, thank you," Francis said, kissing her as she walked by him. She opened the cupboard and, after rearranging a few things, stopped and turned around with a bag in her hand. Arthur paled. It was his bag of croissants.

"Did you buy these, love?" she asked Francis, a curious look on her face. Francis frowned.

"No," he replied. "Those don't go with our meal tonight." The two turned to look at Arthur who then decided it was time to leave.

"I'm going to finish showering now," he mumbled and turned around, almost tripping over his own feet. _Maybe he won't ask. Maybe he won't ask, _he repeated to himself as he hurriedly climbed the stairs.

"Arthur?" Francis called out behind him. "Are these yours? Why do you have all these croissants? I thought you didn't like them!" Arthur sped up, throwing his sword into a nearby closet.

"Uh, I'm going in the bathroom now!" Arthur called back. "Don't bother me if you need something!"

"Arthur!" Francis ran up the stairs, taking them three at a time. Arthur squeaked when he saw Francis at the top of the stairs and he bolted into his room, which led to the bathroom.

"I'm going to shower!" he shouted, running now for the bathroom door. Francis caught up and grabbed Arthur around his waist. Arthur's bathrobe began to slip, making the two of them fall to the floor, Francis on top. "I…" Arthur began and then stopped as his voice cracked. "I'm going to shower now," he said as calmly as he could.

Francis took deep breaths and did his best to ignore all of Arthur's skin that was showing.

"Why do you have those croissants?" he asked in a breathy voice. Arthur's face heated up.

"I…know you like them," he lied.

Francis leaned down and barely brushed his lips over Arthur's. Arthur shivered and then punched Francis as hard as he could, throwing the man off him. Arthur stood up, rage evident on his face.

"Don't you _dare,_" he began, voice shaking with anger. "Don't you _dare _try to kiss me after bringing a woman home," he snarled. "I am now going to finish my shower. You are going to fix dinner with your new wench. We'll eat dinner. Then you will leave." Francis frowned.

"Arthur, what—?" he began but Arthur interrupted him.

"Another thing," Arthur said, pulling his bathrobe back around himself. "_Don't_ kiss me _ever_ again unless we're in a real relationship that actually means something." With that, he walked into the bathroom then slammed and locked the door.

* * *

><p><em>The woman is just some random lady I made up. Don't worry about her.<em>


	4. Chapter 4

_This chapter is a little less implied and a little more plain rated M. And, when you get to the end, don't worry. I still have more to write and I'll write it as fast as I can._

* * *

><p>Arthur stared blearily at the back of his couch. After the exceedingly awkward dinner with he, Francis, and that woman, Arthur had thrown them out of the house and then watched horror movies until late in the night. During one of them, he must have fallen asleep because it was now over, the TV's sleep mode screen flashing. He had woken up to find himself pressed face first against the back of the couch.<p>

He sighed when he saw what time it was but didn't move. It was already about 3AM so he might as well just sleep there until the morning. It wasn't as if he had anything to do that day anyway.

"Are you finally awake, _mon cher?_" The soft voice sent a jolt of energy down his spine and he smelled the man before he saw him. He looked up and saw that Francis was leaning over him.

"I thought I told you to go home," Arthur groaned, turning away.

"You did," Francis agreed. "But I was already in town so I came back to sleep here. It wasn't very nice of you to sleep somewhere as small as this couch. I can't cuddle with you." Francis's breath ghosted over Arthur's ear and he shivered.

"Maybe that was the point, you bloody git," Arthur tried to snap but because he was so tired, it just came out flat.

Francis suddenly pulled Arthur's head back by his hair, exposing his neck. Without another word, Francis bit on the underside of Arthur's jaw, pulling a groan out of his throat. Then Francis proceeded to suck on the bite and, once he had made a large enough mark, he licked it slowly. Arthur tried to hold back his groan but couldn't.

"St-stop it," he whispered and Francis smirked.

"But you liked it so much," he purred, licking along Arthur's jaw line. Arthur suddenly froze.

"How many hickeys did you give that woman?" he asked suddenly, feeling angry again. Francis blinked and pulled away from Arthur's jaw.

"None," he replied. It was Arthur's turn to look surprised.

"You're lying," he said and Francis shook his head.

"I'm not," he insisted. Arthur looked up at Francis a moment more and then turned away.

"Whatever," Arthur grumbled, trying to ignore the warm feeling curling in his stomach.

He felt Francis above him and turned just slightly. Francis grabbed Arthur and roughly flipped him onto his back, spreading his legs so that Francis could sit in between them. Arthur blushed bright red and tried to shove Francis off.

"_Non,_" Francis said breathlessly and Arthur could see the small tent Francis's erection was making in the front of his pants. Arthur bit his lip to prevent himself from panting as Francis began to rub Arthur's clothed member through his pants. "Let your noises out," Francis demanded. "I want to hear you." Arthur looked up at Francis, not sure what expression to make.

"France, I…" Arthur began and then looked away, closing his eyes. "Please…stop." Maybe it was the tone of Arthur's voice that did it but whatever it was, Francis stopped. Arthur sighed and relaxed against the couch. "Just go home and leave me be."

Arthur was just too exhausted. He was still angry with Francis and he was sure that Francis had had all kinds of fun with that Katarina woman, but he had no energy to yell. He just wanted Francis to go away and stay away. Francis wasn't helping anything. All he was doing was making everything worse.

"Do you mean that, Arthur?" Francis asked, looking down at the man. Arthur nodded.

"Yes, I do," he replied. "Go away." Francis removed himself from the couch and Arthur shivered as the warmth left him. A few moments later, he heard the front door open and then close.

Francis was gone.

* * *

><p>When Arthur finally got up, it was already noon. He groaned and then struggled to get up from the couch. Why he ever slept on such an uncomfortable thing he could never figure out the next morning. He stretched and felt his back and neck pop.<p>

Going to the kitchen, he quickly made some tea and then sat down to read that day's newspaper, which had been left on the porch as usual. Despite it being his normal routine, Arthur found that he was unable to concentrate. All he could think about was being mad at Francis and the deadly future that awaited him.

_I thought that I would finally be able to tell Francis that I loved him, _he thought to himself. _At least I thought maybe we could be friends before I died, but now I don't think that's possible. It's clear that he doesn't care for me at all and that he has no interest in being anything more than fuck buddies. _Arthur sighed.

"Bloody hell, Francis," he said to himself. "Do you even know what you do to me?" He rubbed his face wearily with his hand. "And now we're never going to have a chance, even if you could bring yourself to care about an idiot like me…"

So the matter with Francis was settled. Now on to something else much worse.

Arthur suddenly choked and clutched his side as a sharp pain raced through him. He nearly spilled his tea but managed to set it back down on the table, teeth clenched. He didn't have to look at the news to know what had happened.

There had been a riot and a bomb had gone off. Arthur looked down at his side and saw that there was blood oozing out of a wound. People had died. The bomb had taken lives. Arthur grimaced and limped upstairs to his first aid kit. He then rinsed the blood off and applied a band-aid.

"The war hasn't even begun and I'm already injured," Arthur murmured. "By my own people…" He grimaced as another pang flooded his body. He felt his legs shake and then found himself on the floor. His legs had collapsed. "What am I going to do?" He was gasping for breath and couldn't stop quivering.

_I'm not ready for death, _he thought, horror filling him up from the inside. _I've endured pain, I've endured loss, but a country is never supposed to die. We don't ever have to face that as the mortals do. I can't die. I just can't! _He felt tears prick his eyes and then a thought raced through his mind.

"Prussia," he breathed. Prussia had died and was now staying with Germany. Gilbert would know what it was like to die. Arthur clutched at that frail string of thought as a drowning man would clutch to anything just to stay above the surface of the water.

It was just a simple matter of calling Ludwig and arranging to meet with Prussia. Arthur stifled a cry as another blast ricocheted through his core. The sooner he spoke with Gilbert, the better.

Arthur cleaned his new wound and then stumbled outside. He was going to work in his garden to get his mind off things. Arthur knew that no matter what he did, the end result would remain the same. Ivan would kill him mercilessly and Arthur would lose Francis forever.

* * *

><p>Francis took a deep breath before knocking on the door to Arthur's house. He had done a lot of thinking and realized that he shouldn't have brought Katarina home. He hadn't meant anything by it…okay, well, he had. But it was just one of his usual flings. He didn't see why Arthur had gotten so upset. Didn't the Englishman know that Francis was in love with him and always would be?<p>

He sighed and then frowned as he realized there had been no answer to the door. He knocked again, harder this time.

"Arthur?" he called. "Are you in there?" No one replied. "I came to say I'm sorry," Francis continued, knocking again. The door didn't open and Francis didn't hear any noise coming from inside. He dug in his pocket and pulled out his keys. "Arthur, I'm coming in," he said and unlocked the door.

The house was unnaturally still. Francis looked outside to make sure Arthur's car was still in its place.

It was.

Francis looked around cautiously, a strange feeling creeping over him.

"Arthur?" he repeated. "Where are you, _mon ami?_" He knew Arthur hated when he spoke French but he couldn't help it. It just rolled off his tongue. He was the country of France after all.

Francis walked to the kitchen and saw that Arthur had left his tea out on the table. He smiled. Arthur did tend to forget to finish his tea once he left the kitchen. Francis frowned suddenly, spotting something on the floor next to the chair.

He knelt down and touched it softly. A red substance came up and smeared on his fingertip.

Blood?

Francis stood up quickly and raced to the stairs. He stopped up short and actually took a few steps backwards.

In a thick oozing trail leading from the back door, blood coated the stairs, banister, and walls. Francis walked up the stairs, carefully avoiding the blood.

"Arthur?" he asked, concerned. "Arthur?" he repeated, louder this time. As the blood continued, Francis's stomach curled into a tight ball. "Arthur?" he shouted, not even caring that his voice was shaking. He slipped on a patch of blood and righted himself on the wall. He pulled his hand away and saw that it was smeared with blood. He paled and attempted to calm his breathing.

The trail of blood led into Arthur's bedroom.

Francis hesitated only a moment before continuing on.

When he reached the doorway, he couldn't find his voice.

There, lying on the bloodstained bed, was Arthur, a gaping wound on one side of him.

"_Arthur!_" Francis screamed, choking on the stench of blood. He stumbled toward the still man, tears beginning to form in his blue eyes. "No…" Francis breathed, still not seeing any movement from Arthur. "No…_mon Dieu_…"


	5. Chapter 5

_All right, this is a really short chapter. I haven't had much to do today so I was able to write this. It is very short and it is very depressing. Just get through it. I'm already planning the next chapter. If everything goes well and my work allows it, I should be able to have another chapter up tomorrow. If it doesn't allow it, I probably won't be able to post anything else until this Thursday, but I'll have plenty written by then. _

_(By the way, for those of you who don't know: "Mon Dieu" means "My God." "Je t'aime" means "I love you." For future and previous reference, "mon cher," means "my dear." "Mon amor" means "my love." "Mon ami" means "my friend." You probably knew some of those already so sorry if it's a repeat.)  
><em>

* * *

><p>"Please, you can't be dead," Francis choked out, barely holding in a scream. "Oh my God, my dearest God, please, you can't take him…"<p>

Francis began to stumble toward the bed, head spinning. He hadn't been around this much blood since the last war. And now it was Arthur's blood on him, around him, filling his senses.

"Arthur!" Francis cried, tears trickling down his cheeks as his voice cracked.

The blood was just everywhere. Francis had told Arthur that white sheets weren't a good idea. But that seemed so silly and stupid now. Just like all their fights. None of it had ever mattered. Acquiring land, arguing over America and Canada, fighting each other every chance they got; where had that gotten them? What was the purpose of them now, when Arthur was dead?

"Fr-Francis…" Arthur groaned as loudly as he could. As it was, it came out as barely a whisper.

"Oh _mon Dieu!_" Francis gasped, running to Arthur's side and falling to his knees, brushing away his tears. "You're alive," he breathed, cupping Arthur's face in his hands. "You're alive," he repeated as if to reassure himself it was true. "You…" he stopped. "You called me Francis." Arthur nodded slightly, swallowing with difficulty.

"Yeah," he managed to say. "But my vision is fading," he added and Francis paled again.

"What happened?" Francis gasped, trying to ignore all the blood.

"Russia," Arthur gasped painfully. "Ivan was testing a new bomb and decided to…" Arthur coughed raggedly, wincing. "Decided to test it on…me," he finished. Francis scowled, blue eyes flaring with rage.

"I'm going to kill him," he snarled. "But first, I am going to call for an ambulance." Francis grabbed at the telephone on the nightstand and quickly dialed the emergency number.

Minutes later, an ambulance showed up but Arthur refused to be taken away so a specialist was called in and all the equipment was moved into Arthur's room so that it became like a hospital room. Arthur passed out soon after the arrival of the doctor and didn't wake even after the procedure to save his life was long over.

"Doctor," Francis said softly, sitting at Arthur's side. "When will he wake?" The doctor shrugged.

"Impossible to say," he answered. "I don't know how this man is still alive. He could be in that state for quite some time. Just be glad it's not a coma." Francis nodded.

"There's a room right across the hall that you can use, sir," Francis said, getting up to show the doctor to the room. The doctor nodded and left the room. Francis then went back to Arthur's side, holding his hand gently.

Arthur's breathing was broken by coughs and gasps and Francis could tell that it was a very uneasy sleep. Arthur shuddered and then grimaced but didn't wake.

"Arthur," Francis whispered, "Why did this have to happen now?" Francis kissed Arthur's hand tenderly. "I know I have said '_je t'aime_' to you many times and you always told me to shut up. You told me that I didn't mean it because I had said it to so many people. How can I make you understand that telling you that in my language is my way of trying to tell you how much truth is behind my words?"

He sighed, sadness coating his features. Arthur didn't move and his breathing grew more ragged.

"Arthur Kirkland," Francis whispered, hovering over Arthur, studying his features. "I love you, Mr. Arthur Kirkland, the country of England. I _love_ you from the bottom of my heart and I'm afraid you'll never get to hear me say that. I've _always_ loved you, even though I know you don't give a damn about me." Francis chuckled mirthlessly. "I know you don't want me in your life. I know you hate me. I know you just don't care, but I can't help it. I love you, Arthur. _Je t'aime, Angleterre. Je t'aime…_" He leaned toward Arthur's lips and then hesitated.

"_Don't kiss me ever again unless we're in a real relationship that actually means something." _

Francis remembered Arthur's words.

_While every kiss I give you means something, _Francis thought to the sleeping Arthur. _We are not in a real relationship, nor will we ever be. _Francis kissed Arthur's cheek, then his forehead, then his hand again.

"I will always be here, _Angleterre,_" Francis said in a soft tone. "When you wake, I will be here. I won't leave your side, as I know you have never truly left mine. We may have fought. We may have hated. We may have despised. Through it all, I have loved you, though I know you cared nothing for me. For reasons I don't understand, you've stayed by me and have tried to save me. The least I can do is do the same for you, my one and only true love."

Francis looked away, trying to suppress the sadness that threatened to overwhelm him. He suddenly stood and carefully climbed into the bed. He curled around Arthur's good side, careful not to move him.

"Survive, Arthur," he murmured into the man's ear. "Please, please…" He paused, not trusting his voice. As it was, his voice cracked on the next words anyway. "You cannot leave me here alone…"


	6. Chapter 6

_Another kind of short chapter. The next one should be longer._

* * *

><p>Arthur felt the beginnings of consciousness begin to creep in as his eyes fluttered. He didn't want to go to the light, however. He wanted to stay in the darkness. In the light was only pain and anguish. In the darkness, there was blissful nothingness.<p>

Despite what he wanted, he woke up and, using what felt like all his strength, opened his eyes. He blinked a few times to clear his vision and looked around his darkened room. There was hospital equipment scattered around and a beam of sunlight seeped through a crack in the thick green curtains.

Arthur winced in pain as he shifted. He looked down to his injured side but couldn't see anything past the sheets. He looked away and spotted Francis lying next to him.

When had that frog gotten there? Arthur tried to think but all he could remember was working in his garden and then feeling his side and shoulder burst open. What had happened again?

Oh.

Ivan. Russia. The new bomb. The test run on England.

Arthur sighed, looking away from Francis. Why had the bloody idiot come back? Probably to drag another woman into Arthur's house. Did Francis have any idea how much that tormented Arthur? He doubted it. And now the imbecile was lying next to him and Arthur was in no condition to kick him out.

Francis let out a sleepy breath and Arthur couldn't help but to turn and look at him. Francis's blond hair fell in strands across his face and the pillows and Arthur reached out his uninjured hand to sweep the hair away from Francis's face.

"Now your perfect face isn't hidden from me," Arthur whispered. _But your beautiful blue eyes are, _he thought to himself.

Francis shifted and hugged a pillow closer, curling up slightly. Arthur smiled.

_Cute, _he thought and then blushed lightly. He then frowned. He couldn't afford to fall for the country any more. They had to hate each other. But as he looked at Francis, he wanted nothing more than to kiss the man senseless and then make love to him so that Francis would never again think of anyone else.

Arthur bit his lip to cut off the thoughts and then looked away, moving a bit. He hissed as his side flared with pain and Francis woke up.

"Mm, Arthur," he said groggily, trying to sit up despite the fact that he was obviously exhausted. "You are awake, _non?_" Arthur grimaced.

"I'm awake," he replied in a raspy voice. "Water?" He couldn't look at Francis.

"_Oui_," Francis mumbled, still trying to wake up.

He slid off the bed and walked to the door, stretching slightly. Arthur surveyed Francis's wrinkled clothing. The idiot should know better than to sleep in his good clothes. He should have at least changed into some grubby ones.

_Or worn nothing at all, _the perverted side of Arthur's mind whispered. Arthur blushed lightly at the images that thought provided. Francis paused in the doorway and looked back at Arthur who blushed even more.

"Will you be all right while I get you the water?" Francis asked, yawning halfway through his question. Arthur nodded. "I'll be right back," Francis said and went downstairs.

Arthur sighed and tried to calm his racing heart. What had just happened?

"Damn," Arthur swore. "My injury must be worse than I thought." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

_Francis, _he thought. _I hate how much I love you…_

* * *

><p>When Francis returned, the doctor was examining Arthur who looked as though he was sleeping again. Francis was about to start worrying again when Arthur's green eyes opened. For some reason, he flushed a nice pink color, making Francis's insides feel funny.<p>

"Oh, thanks," Arthur said, reaching for the water but then wincing as it pulled at his wound.

"You're going to have to feed him and help him with everything for a while," the doctor said.

Francis nodded and sat down on the bed next to Arthur. Gently helping Arthur to sit up slightly and cringing each time Arthur's face clouded with pain, Francis carefully helped Arthur drink some water. Arthur swallowed slowly but, after a few moments, motioned that he'd had enough.

"What _can_ I do by myself?" Arthur asked the doctor.

"Nothing," the doctor replied and Arthur scowled. "Your friend will need to stay with you at all times to help you recover." The doctor left a list of instructions and another of do's and don'ts before leaving. He left them his card so they could call him if they needed him.

"You don't have to stay," Arthur said after Francis had seen the doctor to the door. Francis scoffed.

"Really?" he asked sarcastically. "And what can you possibly do without my help?" Arthur tried to sit up but nearly blacked out from the pain.

"I guess nothing," he admitted shakily. "Just don't get the wrong idea," he added. Francis raised an eyebrow.

"The wrong idea?" he queried. Arthur looked away.

"You're only staying because the doctor said so," Arthur grumbled. "I could just call Alfred or someone else to help me." Francis sat down on the bed, taking a gentle hold of Arthur's hand.

"_Non,_" he said firmly, startling Arthur slightly. "I will stay and help," Francis continued. "Please, let me stay." Arthur could feel himself blushing.

"Fine," he snapped. "But you're going to have to put up with my bad moods and everything about me that makes you angry." Francis smiled and kissed Arthur's forehead.

"That's what I'm looking forward to, _mon petit lapin,_" he cooed, making Arthur blush more.

"Shut up, frog," Arthur growled. "Go get me something to eat. I'm hungry." Francis stood up and bowed to Arthur.

"As you wish," he said softly and Arthur turned away.

Francis waited to sigh until he reached the kitchen downstairs. What was it going to take for Arthur to realize that Francis didn't hate him?

Upstairs, Arthur was wondering what it was going to take for Francis to realize that Arthur didn't hate him.

* * *

><p><em>For those of you who don't know (and I didn't know until I looked it up) "mon petit lapin" means "my little rabbit."<em>


	7. Chapter 7

It had been over a week since the first bomb dropped on England, injuring Arthur badly. He was doing much better and could do many things by himself. He had always been a fast healer.

A few days previous, Arthur had thrown Francis out of his room and then made a phone call. He called Germany's house and was not surprised to hear the overenthusiastic Italy answer the phone. After a few moments, he finally got Ludwig on the line and then asked if Gilbert was at home.

Talking to Gilbert was always awkward for Arthur but he managed to set up an appointment to meet with him.

"I know that Francis is helping take care of you," Gilbert had said. "I also know that you can't drive yourself to the meeting. Francis can drive you but he is not to follow you into the restaurant or I'll leave without saying a word to you. I don't want to see him."

Arthur agreed to the terms and now the day of the meeting had arrived. To say Arthur was nervous would be an understatement. Also, trying to get Francis to consent not to follow him was difficult.

"What if something goes wrong?" Francis asked for the hundredth time as he drove down the street. "You may need me and I wouldn't be there." Arthur sighed.

"We've gone over this, you French frog," he snapped. "I won't need you. Everything will be fine. Now stop your worrying!" Francis fell silent but Arthur could see the irritation in his face.

"Fine," Francis said finally. "I won't go in with you. But I'm going to go shopping in your car so just make sure to have your phone on. I'll let you know when I'm back to pick you up." Arthur nodded.

"Yes, yes," he said. "That will work."

* * *

><p>"Francis isn't with you?" Gilbert's rough voice startled Arthur and his eyes quickly found the man sitting at a table a few feet away. Arthur crossed to him quickly and sat down across from him.<p>

"He's gone shopping in my car," Arthur answered curtly. Gilbert smiled.

"Good," he said, resting his head on his hands as his red eyes surveyed Arthur. Arthur took a deep breath and then cleared his throat.

"I'll get right to the point then," he began. "As you know, Ivan is intent on taking over the world, beginning with my destruction." Gilbert nodded. Arthur took another calming breath. "This is a sensitive subject, I know," he continued. "And you don't have to answer if you don't wish to, I would completely understand." Gilbert looked at Arthur expectantly. "Wh-what is it like to die?" Arthur stammered quickly.

"You've given up already?" Gilbert sounded shocked. Arthur frowned.

"No," he replied. "But there's no way that I can win against Ivan. I'm going to fight, certainly, but I already know that I will be fighting a losing battle." Gilbert took a gulp of his beer.

"Why not let Francis help you?" he asked. "You know that he would die for you." Arthur scowled.

"I _don't _know that but I'm not going to let him die," he retorted. "Even if I die, the other countries will then ally themselves together. Besides, I'm already thinking of ways to make sure that Francis is protected." Gilbert laughed.

"So you're in love with him?"

"What? No!" Arthur protested but Gilbert was smirking.

"That stupid wine bastard," Gilbert chuckled. "You know he thinks you hate him, right?" Arthur looked down at the table.

"I don't hate him," he mumbled. Gilbert raised an eyebrow.

"But Francis thinks you do," he repeated. "And that's what makes the difference. So why don't you just tell him you love him?" Arthur sighed.

"Because he doesn't return my feelings," he said finally. Gilbert choked on his beer and Arthur had to wait a few seconds before Gilbert could speak again.

"D-doesn't return—! That is the biggest load of bullshit I've ever heard!" Gilbert guffawed. Arthur blushed.

"No it's not!" he insisted. "Francis tells everyone that he loves them! Just because he says it to me doesn't make it true!"

"Does he tell it to you in French?"

"Yes! Just like he does to everyone else!" Arthur yelled, ignoring the other customers beginning to stare at him. "He's always throwing _'je t'aime'_s everywhere!" Gilbert laughed at Arthur's accent. "Oh, shut up, Gilbert," Arthur snapped. "You know it's true!"

"Yes, I do," Gilbert admitted. "But he does love you, you must know that." Arthur scoffed.

"Like hell he loves me," he grumbled. "All he does is go around flirting with women and whomever else he thinks looks attractive. He'll have sex with practically anything that moves!" Gilbert rolled his eyes.

"No, he won't," Gilbert said seriously. "Who was the one there when you were injured? Who's been taking care of you despite your bad attitude and ingratitude? Who is always there for you when you need someone? Sure, he may go around flirting with women but all men do that. Just because he's flirting doesn't mean that he's seriously interested in them. Maybe he's been doing it to get your attention."

"If he loves me then he's got a bad way of showing it," Arthur muttered. "I know he's been helping me while I'm injured but that doesn't mean a thing. He's always talking to me, always telling me that he loves me. Well, words don't mean much." Gilbert just gulped at his beer.

"I believe you wanted to know what it was like to die?" he asked, getting them back on topic. Arthur blinked.

"Oh, um, yes," he replied, trying to look Gilbert in the face.

"After you die, people pity you, just like you're doing to me," Gilbert said calmly. Arthur winced.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, looking up at Gilbert. "I don't mean to."

"I know," Gilbert said. "It just happens. People do it even if they don't mean to or even if they're trying not to." Arthur sighed.

_So even if Francis and I get together, he'll still pity me after I die, _he thought to himself. _What a pathetic romance that would be. The chances of us being together are getting more and more slim. _

"But about what it's actually like to die," Gilbert went on. "You can't even imagine it." He was staring at Arthur now, resting his head on his hands.

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked, not sure that he really wanted to know the answer. But he had come this far. He wasn't going to chicken out now. Gilbert paused only a moment.

"Imagine the worst pain you've ever been in and then push it past the point of your imagination," he began. "That's part of it. You feel as though you're going to die just from the pain."

Arthur gulped. He'd been in a lot of pain before. Thinking about being in pain much worse than that was almost painful in and of itself.

"For me," Gilbert went on. "My people weren't all dying, so it will be slightly different for you. My people were being divided and I was being pulled from existence. I could feel every person torn from me. I could feel my name ripped from my soul and then my very soul taken from me. I had no control over anything and I knew that I would no longer be myself. It went on and on and then, finally, blissfully, mercifully, I was released into oblivion."

"But you're still here," Arthur said slowly. "What happened then?"

"I woke up and discovered that I was mortal," Gilbert replied nonchalantly, picking his beer up again. "And my brother was kind enough to allow me to live with him. I _am_ pretty awesome, even if I'm not a country anymore." Arthur took a deep breath.

"The aftermath doesn't sound so bad," he said, smiling a little and drinking some tea. Gilbert smirked.

"For you, there won't be an aftermath," Gilbert said, red eyes boring into Arthur. Arthur could barely swallow his tea.

"Wh-what do you mean by that?" he asked shakily.

"You think that Russia is going to run the risk of you becoming a country again?" Gilbert queried.

"What?" Arthur was confused. Gilbert sighed, exasperated.

"If you become mortal like me and then the other countries ally and defeat Russia, you can become the country of England again," Gilbert explained. "So, Ivan will kill you as soon as you become mortal. More than likely, he will capture you as you are dying and then kill you the second you wake up."

"So there's no chance of my survival?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"No," Gilbert replied.

"So even if Francis does love me, there is no chance for us," Arthur whispered. Gilbert nodded.

"Which leads me back to my question, why don't you just tell him you love him? What harm can it do?" Arthur glared at Gilbert.

"What harm?" he asked. "What _harm?_ If I tell him and he _is _in love with me, what will happen to him when I die and then am killed _again_ by Ivan? He will be devastated! At least if I don't tell him, he won't be as sad! He'll get over me! If I tell him…I can't bear the thought of him being that miserable…"

"You're so selfish," Gilbert snapped. "Yes, he'll be sad, but if he finds out from someone else that you truly loved him back, he'll feel even worse! You need to be completely honest with him and he needs to be completely honest with you! Gods, you two are a couple of blasted fools."

Arthur stood up and walked away.


	8. Chapter 8

"You seem upset," Francis commented, helping Arthur lay down on the couch. Arthur shrugged and grabbed the TV remote from the side table. "What did you two talk about to get you so upset?" Francis sat down at Arthur's feet, putting Arthur's legs on Francis's lap instead. Arthur hesitated. He didn't want to tell Francis that he had asked Gilbert about dying.

"Just love and stuff like that," he answered finally. Francis stiffened.

"Whoever you were talking to confessed to you?" he snapped. "Who was it?" Arthur was startled by Francis's sudden annoyance. Could Gilbert be right about Francis loving him?

"I said we talked about love," Arthur replied. "That's all I said." Francis frowned and looked down at the floor.

"They better not have confessed to you," he muttered angrily.

"And why is that?" Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow as he switched on the TV. Francis looked over at him.

"Don't you know?" he asked back. "_Je t'ai—_" Arthur sat up quickly, ignoring the pain that it caused him. He quickly put a finger to Francis's lips.

"Don't," he snarled. "Don't say that. You say it to everyone all the time. It doesn't mean anything. Words don't mean anything." Francis was startled.

"But when I say it to you, I speak with my own language to show you how true it is," he said. Arthur scoffed.

"Well, your language means nothing to me," he responded, leaning back to watch TV.

"What _does_ mean something to you?" Francis asked, watching Arthur instead of the television. Arthur paused to think.

"Words don't mean much, if they mean anything at all," he said carefully. "What really truly means something is someone's touch." Francis smiled.

"Someone's touch," Francis repeated. "That sounds so cheesy, _Angleterre._" Arthur blushed.

"But it's true," he replied. "To be in the touch of the one you love is what really counts. Touch, combined with actions and words, shows what a person is really feeling deep inside." Francis reached over and gently cupped Arthur's face in his hand. "Hey, you're blocking the TV," Arthur protested but Francis didn't pull back.

"What do you feel when you are in my touch?" Francis asked softly. Arthur blushed lightly.

"I feel like I'm being touched by a frog," he snapped back. "Now move so I can watch my show!" Francis sighed and sat back up. Arthur eyed Francis warily.

_I should at least try to be honest, _Arthur thought. _Just like Gilbert said. Besides, I won't get another chance, especially if I'm going to die completely and utterly. _He sighed deeply.

"I'm sorry," Arthur mumbled, turning the TV off. Francis turned back to look at him.

"For what?" Francis asked. Arthur looked him right in the eyes.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you like that," he answered. "I shouldn't have done it. It's ridiculous how I always regret how I treat you…" He tried to sit up and Francis helped him until they were nose to nose. "I'm sorry," Arthur whispered. "I don't know where to even start apologizing."

"I also owe you many apologies as well," Francis replied, smiling slightly. "I don't know where to start either." They sat in silence for a few minutes.

Arthur reached out to touch Francis's face softly and blushed when Francis leaned into his hand.

"When I am in your touch," Francis began in a quiet voice. "I am never sure if I am feeling what I wish to feel or if I am feeling what you actually feel for me." Arthur's breath caught in his throat and he moved his hand downward, along Francis's jaw and neck and then across his chest.

"Fran—" Arthur paused. "Francis," he finished quietly. Francis blushed.

"Mm," he said, closing his eyes. "I like it when you say my name."

"Keep your eyes closed," Arthur ordered. "And don't move." Francis hesitated and then did as he said.

Leaning forward slowly, Arthur placed his lips on Francis's in a soft chaste kiss. He sat back and then kissed Francis again, harder this time. Francis began to respond but Arthur chided him.

"Don't move," he repeated and waited until Francis was still again.

Kissing Francis again and nibbling on his lip, Arthur wrapped his good hand in Francis's blonde hair, pulling Francis's head back. Arthur kissed down Francis's neck, making the man shiver. Biting hard at the junction of Francis's neck and shoulders, he pulled a low moan from Francis, which made him grin.

Kissing Francis's lips again, he pulled the Frenchman forward by the hair, roughly thrusting his tongue into Francis's mouth and exploring every inch of it. He bit Francis's lips harshly and then kissed them forcefully. Francis had begun to gasp and groan softly and Arthur smiled knowing that it was because of him.

"Arthur," Francis purred and Arthur kissed him again, this time asking permission to enter Francis's mouth. Francis opened his mouth willingly and Arthur plundered him once more. Francis moved to put his arm around Arthur's good side and Arthur let himself be pulled up against Francis's body.

They were melting into each other, and, for the first time, Arthur felt as though Francis could possibly really love him. They both pulled away to breathe and stared at each other, both red faced.

"Arthur," Francis began, panting slightly. "_Je…_" he stopped and then smiled. It was the purest smile Arthur had ever seen. "Arthur, I love you."

Arthur thought his heart had stopped.

"Y-you…" he stammered. "You said it in English!" Francis smiled and pulled him closer.

"That I did," he replied. "Because it is _your _language, and it means something to you. I know my feelings for you so it does not matter to me which language I say it in, but it matters to you, so I said it in English." Kissing Arthur deeply, Francis whispered against Arthur's lips, "I love you…"

"I…think you're telling the truth," Arthur said after a moment, staring at Francis in amazement. "You…you are, aren't you?" Francis nodded, chuckling softly.

"Yes, my dear England," he answered. "What does my touch tell you now?" Arthur smiled slightly.

"It tells me that you love me," Arthur said, kissing Francis.

_I'll never be able to touch him like this again, _his mind suddenly thought and his smile froze. _I'm going to die. It's all going to end. There's no point to this. If I tell him that I love him too, he'll only ever be miserable. I won't be able to bring him any kind of happiness. _Arthur surveyed Francis's face. _I won't be able to see this. I won't be able to feel this. It will all be gone…_

Arthur suddenly pushed away from Francis, wincing slightly.

"Arthur?" Francis asked, confused. "What—?"

"There's no point," Arthur said, smile faded. "There's no point to you loving me. I'm only going to die." Francis glowered.

"You have given up?" he snapped and Arthur shook his head.

"No," he returned. "But I already know the outcome of this. There's nothing I can do."

"Why are you doing this?" Francis asked, grin vanishing. "Why are you pushing me away?"

_Because I love you too, _Arthur thought but didn't say.

"Because you shouldn't love a man who is marked for death," he said instead. Francis huffed.

"But I _do_," he replied. Arthur pulled himself off Francis's lap and sat down on the couch again.

"And that's _my_ problem?" he asked sarcastically.

Just as Francis was about to say something, there was a knock at the door. Arthur started to get up but Francis pushed him gently back down.

"You're still injured," he said. "Let me get it." Arthur watched as Francis went to the door and then opened it.

"Yo, Francis, what are you doing here, dude?" That loud voice could only belong to one person, or country as it happened. "I came here to see Iggy! Is he around?"

"Yes, yes, I'm right here, America," Arthur sighed. "Let him in, France." Francis grudgingly allowed Alfred into the house and he immediately went to sit next to Arthur.

"Woah, you _did_ get injured!" Alfred exclaimed, looking at the bandages showing through Arthur's shirt. "Are you okay?" Arthur was reminded of all the times that a younger Alfred had showed concern the same way.

"I'm fine, Alfred," Arthur replied gently. Then he noticed that part of Alfred's head was bandaged. "Are you hurt?" Alfred laughed.

"Oh, yeah!" he answered. "The same day you were attacked, Ivan attacked Alaska, hoping to take over. It didn't really work but I got a bit beat up!" Arthur's eyes suddenly widened.

"Oh my god," Arthur gasped. "I knew about that!" He had just remembered. The morning before Ivan had attacked, he had received word from his intelligence force that Ivan was also planning an attack on America. Arthur hadn't remembered to tell America before Ivan had attacked and then he had had no recollection of it until Alfred had just mentioned it.

"You did?" Alfred asked.

"Yes!" Arthur replied. "But I was attacked myself before I could tell you! And then I forgot!" Alfred laughed.

"Dude, it's totally okay! I'm fine!" He grinned and poked the bandages to show it was true. Francis sat down in a chair across from Arthur and Alfred.

"Are you sure?" Arthur asked, still concerned.

"Yep, totally!" Alfred insisted. "I just came over to see how you were doing! I heard Francis was over here helping and wanted to make sure he was doing a decent job!"

"You doubt me, _Amérique?_" Francis asked, insulted. Alfred chuckled.

"Well, that and I also wanted to check on my big bro for myself," he said. Arthur rolled his eyes. Alfred was so grown up, sometimes Arthur was still surprised. "Is it all right if I stay here tonight?" Alfred asked.

"Of course, Alfred," Arthur replied, smiling at him.

"Can I…" Alfred hesitated. "Can I sleep with you?" Arthur blushed lightly. It was no secret that he and Alfred had been in a close relationship some years ago and, while they were still good friends, they weren't romantically involved anymore.

"Of course," Arthur replied, ruffling Alfred's hair. "Just like when you were little, hm?" Arthur ignored Francis's glared. If Francis could bring other women into Arthur's home, Arthur could let his little brother sleep with him for a night.

"Yes, just like when I was little," Alfred agreed and Arthur sighed in relief. For a moment, he had been worried that Alfred was trying to start a relationship with him again but it seemed that his little brother simply wanted to be exactly that for a night. Francis didn't have anything to worry about.

Francis was trying hard not to say anything. Did his completely honest confession mean _nothing _to Arthur? He sighed angrily and then stood up.

"I'm going to bed," he snapped. "I'll just sleep in a guest room somewhere. Surely you can make dinner for yourself." With that, he walked away, not even noticing Arthur's sad glance following him.

"Did you two fight or something?" Alfred asked in the silence that followed Francis's departure.

"I don't know," Arthur replied. "Come on, we might as well get something to eat and then go to bed. I'm tired beyond belief."

"I'll do the dinner!" Alfred exclaimed, bouncing ahead of Arthur. "My food tastes way better than yours anyway!"

"You take that back!" Arthur demanded, chasing after Alfred who was laughing loudly.

Upstairs, Francis curled into a ball and tried not to feel guilty.

_Why do I feel like this is my fault when it had nothing to do with me? _He tried to shut everything out but no matter what he did, he couldn't. _I know Arthur is going to die…I just wish I could do something…I wish he would let me… Does he really hate me that much? _

Francis felt a tear trickle down his cheek and did nothing to stop the rest that followed.

* * *

><p><em>And that's all for today folks! Unless I somehow miraculously get the internet again and can post another chapter (assuming I have another one done.) If not, I'll post a couple more chapters tomorrow! The story is almost over, I promise! Just last until the end please! I'm trying to make it good for you guys!<em>


	9. Chapter 9

_A bit short but (I think) sweet._

* * *

><p>"Arthur?" Alfred's voice, surprisingly soft, woke Arthur.<p>

"Hm?" he asked sleepily, turning over to find Alfred hovering over him. "What is it, Alfred? Did you have a nightmare?" Alfred chuckled.

"No," he replied. "I haven't done that in a long time. I just wanted to tell you something…" When Alfred hesitated, Arthur frowned slightly and reached up to play with Alfred's hair.

"You know you can tell me anything," Arthur whispered. Alfred nodded.

"Do you love Francis?" he asked suddenly. Arthur blinked and then smiled sadly.

"Yes," he answered. "I'm afraid I do." Alfred grinned.

"So I wasn't wrong," Alfred said. "I was afraid I was!" Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"What are you talking about?" he asked. Alfred's smile became just a little bit sad.

"When you and I were together, it was magical," he said, kissing Arthur's forehead. "But I knew you loved someone else more than you loved me. I could just tell. With Mattie's help, I figured out it was Francis that you loved. So I broke up with you, but it's been years since then and you and he still aren't together. I was afraid that I had been wrong." Arthur stared at Alfred incredulously.

"You knew?" he queried.

"Mhm," Alfred answered. "It's okay though. You two have loved each other so long that you need to be together." At that, Arthur sighed and looked away.

"We're never going to be together, Alfred," he said softly. "It's just not going to happen." Alfred frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm going to die, no matter what I do, and Francis and I will never be together," Arthur said, staring up at his ceiling.

"You call him Francis now?" Alfred asked, laughing slightly.

"Not to his face," Arthur replied, smiling. "You don't seem surprised to learn that I'm going to die." It was Alfred's turn to look away.

"As soon as the other countries decided that we couldn't help you, I knew what would happen," Alfred said after a moment. "I wish I could help but I'm already stretched thin and my people are still upset over the last war and how it turned out." Arthur turned Alfred's face to him.

"It's all right," he said. "I'm not asking for help."

"I know but that makes it worse!" Alfred cried. "I don't want you to die! I love you too much!" His voice cracked on the last few words and it took all Arthur had not to kiss him, just to comfort him.

"I love you too," Arthur replied, sighing. "But we have to let things take their course. You know that I'm not going down without a fight. Maybe if the other countries get their act together then I'll survive." _But we both know how likely that will be, _Arthur finished in his thoughts.

After talking a few more minutes, both men went back to sleep.

"You're awfully quiet this morning," Arthur said, sipping at his tea. "Not sleep well?" He was watching Francis clean up the kitchen. Francis had made a wonderful breakfast before Alfred left and now it was just Arthur and Francis in the house.

"I'm fine," Francis replied, not stopping what he was doing. Arthur sighed irritably and set his teacup down.

"What's the matter?" he snapped.

"It's nothing," Francis insisted, cleaning another dish. "How was it being with Alfred again?"

"It was fine," Arthur answered. "He just went right to sleep anyway. He only woke up once to tell me something interesting."

"What was that?" Francis asked conversationally. Arthur paused.

"Just some stuff from when he and I were together," Arthur said casually, flipping through his newspaper. "Nothing very interesting."

"_Je vois_," Francis said without thinking. "I mean, I see," he corrected before Arthur could say anything.

"You know, frog," Arthur began, standing up. "I don't actually hate French." Francis looked at him for the first time that morning.

"You hate every time I speak it," he said and Arthur could see that the man really hadn't slept well. There were bags under his eyes. Arthur took a breath and then walked over to Francis, pinning him against the counter. Standing on his toes slightly, he gently kissed Francis's eyes.

"You didn't sleep well," he whispered in answer to Francis's unspoken question. To his surprise, Francis turned away and angrily scrubbed at a dish. "What did I do?" Arthur asked.

"I wish you wouldn't do things like that," Francis snapped. "It is as if you are mocking my feelings for you." Arthur looked away sadly.

"France, I…" Arthur hesitated. "I'm not trying to mock you," he said. "You know that I have trouble expressing myself with words." Francis nodded.

"So I have noticed," he said gruffly. Arthur grabbed Francis's arm and turned the man around roughly.

"Then you should know what I actually feel for you," Arthur growled, looking up slightly at Francis. "God, you can be such a bloody idiot sometimes!" Francis glared.

"Then I apologize for not meeting up to your perfect expectations of me," he snarled back. "I am only myself, nothing more. I tell you the truth and then you laugh and knock me down. It is how we have always done it, _non?_ I suppose that I should be used to it by now." Francis turned back to the sink.

"Good God, Francis, will you just listen to me?" Arthur shouted, grabbing the man again. Suddenly, a pang shot through his wounded side and he crumpled backwards. Francis caught him before he could hit anything and helped him to sit down on the floor.

"Are you all right, Arthur?" Francis asked gently, sweeping Arthur's hair from his face.

"Does it bloody well look like I'm all right?" Arthur snapped and then grimaced. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I'm sorry for everything…" Francis sighed.

"I am sorry too," Francis replied. Arthur looked into Francis's face.

"No matter what I say or what anyone else says, you're perfect, just the way you are," Arthur said softly and then gritted his teeth as his wound flared with pain again. Francis wished he could do something to help.

"I feel so helpless, _Angleterre,_" he whispered. "Tell me what I can do to help you and I will do it." Arthur looked at him sadly.

"Hold me," he said. "And don't ever let go."

Without saying a word, Francis carefully pulled Arthur to him, holding him as tightly as he dared.

"I won't break," Arthur mumbled into Francis's shoulder. Arthur gripped tightly to Francis while Francis held him close. _If only this moment could last an eternity, _Arthur thought.


	10. Chapter 10

Winter was closing in and the war had started months ago. Arthur had been mostly on his own and had done pretty well in repelling the combined forces of Russia and North Korea. Arthur doubted that his enemies were giving it their all, however, and was sure the worst was yet to come.

He was currently sitting in a tent on the latest battlefield with a doctor bandaging his wounds. As of yet, he hadn't directly fought Ivan but knew that would come soon. He winced as the doctor lifted his arm to wrap his shoulder.

"Almost done, sir," the doctor said quickly. Arthur gritted his teeth and nodded.

"Have we deployed the bombers to the area I specified?" he asked one of his generals. The general nodded.

"Yes, sir," he replied. "We're following your orders closely." Arthur then turned to greet the man who had just entered the tent.

"A visitor for you, sir," the soldier announced, saluting sharply. "He said his name is Ludwig." Arthur took a deep breath and then grimaced as his shoulder twitched.

"Yes, I called for him earlier. Send him in immediately," Arthur commanded and the man left. "That should be fine, doctor," Arthur said, shooing the doctor away. "Will I live?" The doctor smiled slightly.

"Yes, sir," he answered. "This far, you're just full of small wounds and cuts. As long as nothing major happens, you should be fine." Arthur nodded and then motioned for the men in the tent to leave.

"I will be speaking to Ludwig alone," he told them.

"Ludwig for you, sir," the returning soldier said.

"Let him in," Arthur said, drawing his coat back around him. The bad thing about getting bandaged was that one got really cold in the meantime. Dressed in his usual uniform, Germany entered the tent cautiously, looking slightly nervous.

"Leave us please," Arthur said to the soldier. "Please, sit," he then said to Ludwig, motioning to a seat.

"Ah, _danke_," Ludwig said, sitting down gingerly. "Arthur, I have no forces—," he began but Arthur cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"I'm not asking for your help in battle," Arthur said. "I would ask of you another favor, one that means much more to me." Ludwig looked at him curiously.

"Go ahead and ask then," he said. Arthur looked at the man and, after a pause, spoke.

"I need you to protect France for me," Arthur said. "I don't expect you to protect him over your Italy or yourself," he added quickly. "I just need to know that he has some sort of protection. If he…if something happened to him, I wouldn't be able to stand it." Ludwig thought for a moment.

"I can do that," he answered. "In return, you would need to do one thing for me."

"If I can, I will," Arthur said. Ludwig surveyed Arthur a few minutes more.

"If ever I need you to, protect Feliciano for me," he said. Arthur smiled slightly.

"If I am around to do so, I will gladly protect him," Arthur replied. Ludwig nodded.

"_Danke,_" he said. "Is there anything else?" Arthur hesitated before speaking.

"I once told France the beginning of a sentence," he answered slowly. "I never told him the last word. If I don't get the chance to tell him before the end, would you tell him the last word?" Ludwig nodded. "The last word is 'you'. He will understand."

"You haven't told him you love him yet?" Ludwig asked incredulously. Arthur was startled.

"Well, I," he stammered. "I'm not very good at that sort of thing. But how did you know that's what the sentence is?" Ludwig smiled sadly.

"It's the sort of thing one says to their true love before they die," he replied. "I will do as you ask. You do not need to fear for Francis's safety. We will make sure he lasts through this war, unscathed if possible." Arthur breathed a sigh of relief and then couldn't hold back a cry as a blast ripped through him.

A soldier appeared at the tent door, blood staining his uniform.

"It's Russia, sir!" he yelled. "He demands that you come and fight him immediately!" Arthur cursed as Ludwig tried to help him staunch the wound.

"Tell him I will be out in one hour!" Arthur shouted back. "Go!"

"Sir!" the soldier saluted and then ran off toward the field. Ludwig looked down at Arthur.

"Where are the first aid supplies?" he asked and Arthur motioned to a corner. Ludwig quickly retrieved the items he needed and set about trying to bandage the new wound.

Moments later, there was another explosion and Arthur screamed in pain.

"Arthur!" Ludwig said, catching him before he could hit the ground. "Oh _mein Gott,_" he breathed, trying to stop the bleeding of another serious wound. "Just hold on, I'm sure the doctor will be here shortly!" Something landed with a heavy thump in front of the tent.

Despite Ludwig's protests, Arthur stood up, ignoring the pain, and stumbled to the door. Lying on the ground in front of him was the same soldier he had just sent to deliver his message. On the soldier's back was a note, attached by a knife. The note read, "_Come now or I will kill all your people._" Arthur took a shaky breath and then reached for his gun.

"Leave, Ludwig," he said firmly. "I don't want you becoming a casualty."

"You cannot fight in your condition!" Ludwig protested, trying to stop him. Arthur whirled around, fire in his eyes.

"I _must _fight!" he hissed. "I _will _fight, until my dying breath leaves my lips! I will _not_ let this tyrant overrun my lands and murder my people! Leave and protect Francis the best that you can. We all know the end to my story. Don't let it become the end of the world." With that, Arthur called to another soldier. "Take some of your men and escort this man back to his home safely. If you have to die to make sure he is unharmed, do so."

"Yes, sir!" the soldier said, saluting. "This way, sir," he then said to Ludwig.

"Goodbye, Germany," Arthur whispered as the country walked away from him. He then turned and walked out to face Ivan and whatever doom awaited him.

* * *

><p>"This is the end for you," Ivan said, laughing manically. Arthur coughed, feeling blood trickle down his chin. He looked up at Ivan and could barely see anything more than an outline of the country.<p>

Arthur couldn't move and felt strangely alienated from his body. All around him, his people were being obliterated and he could do nothing to aid them.

"You won't win…" Arthur choked out. "The others…will stop…you…"

"And for that belief, you die!" Ivan growled, and then Arthur's world exploded into tiny pieces.

There was nothing but pain. Arthur could feel all the bombs dropping on his people, could feel them ripped away from him by death and by Ivan. It was just as Gilbert said and as everything was ending, Arthur forgot who or what he was. All was swallowed up by anguish, despair, and pure agony.

Then it was over and Arthur slipped gratefully into the black nothingness that awaited him.

_Goodbye, world..._

* * *

><p><em>There's still more to come! Keep reading! I'll have it up soon!<em>


	11. Chapter 11

Arthur knew something was wrong. He opened his eyes and found that he was in his bed in his own house. What had happened? Oh yeah, he died.

He sat up slowly, preparing for the pain he expected to come. When none did, he looked down at his body in shock. All his wounds were gone but his body felt heavier.

"So you are awake." Ivan's voice sent a shudder through Arthur and he turned to see the country standing in the shadows. "You are mortal now," Ivan continued, walking forward. Moonlight through the window streamed in, making everything look strange. Ivan's eyes glittered.

"I s-suppose I am," Arthur stammered, trying to move backwards on his bed. The sheets were tangled all around him, however, and he couldn't move. "Look, Ivan, just leave me alone. You've already taken my identity and you have complete domination over all of England. Can't you leave me alone?" His voice cracked.

"No, I am afraid not, dear Arthur," Ivan purred. "You must die." With that, Ivan pointed a gun at Arthur who could do nothing but freeze in place.

_No! I can't die! _his mind screamed. _Please! I can't! Oh my god, no! Francis! I can't leave him! _As Ivan readied the gun with a click, Arthur closed his eyes. _Oh god, Francis, I love you so much! _

"_Non!_ _Laisser Arthur tranquille! _Leave Arthur alone!" Suddenly, there was a knife showing through Russia's gut and Ivan gagged.

"Francis," he growled in pain and whirled around, knocking Francis to the ground with his gun. "You will die first!" Ivan yelled and Arthur screamed.

"Germany!" he shouted with all his might. "Oh God, Germany! Where are you? Take him away!"

"_Non! _I will die for you!" Francis shouted, kicking Ivan's gun away and jumping back to his feet. He and Ivan began to hit each other, Francis getting in quite a few blows, his anger giving him power. "You will never kill, _mon Angleterre!_" Francis yelled in Ivan's face, punching it as hard as he could.

Francis grabbed Arthur's old sword from the closet and Ivan grabbed an old musket. Francis did his best to dodge the shots but a few bullets grazed him. Arthur struggled to get up and finally did but couldn't do anything to help. The countries were just too powerful and he was only a human.

"_Germany!_" Arthur shrieked and Ludwig appeared the doorway. "Take him away! He'll die!" Without another word, Ludwig grabbed Francis around his waist and began to drag him out.

"Now _you_ die," Ivan snarled, turning back to Arthur, gun back in his hand. Arthur's eyes widened and he began to shake in fear. He couldn't move and stared down the barrel of the gun.

"_Non, mon amor!_" Francis screamed, struggling against Ludwig. "_Lâchez-moi!_ Let me go!" Arthur locked eyes with Francis for a moment and then closed them. There was a bang and everything was over. Arthur barely felt the floor as it rushed up to meet him.

_Goodbye, my love…_

* * *

><p><em>This is just really short but more coming soon! This tale is almost over. I think I already asked, but would any of you be interested in having me write epilogue chapters?<em>


	12. Chapter 12

"You can't kill England!" the people of England shouted. "You just can't do it!"

"England isn't a person you can kill, it's a country!" the people of the world added.

All of Earth was in an uproar. The countries finally allied themselves and fought for the return of England.

According to everyone, England would always exist, even if only in people's hearts. Everyone knew that, even if England did return, it would be different because of what had happened to its people and its land. When Russia took over, it hadn't been pretty. Terrible things had been done to England's people, countryside, and landmarks. Almost everything had been obliterated.

The countries ignored their sorrow for the most part, although America and France took it rather hard. Even Canada had risen up to fight Russia. It had taken the fall of an entire country to stir the world into the action that it should have taken long ago. It had taken the death of millions of people to remind the world that it isn't divided.

* * *

><p>There was no proper funeral for Arthur as Russia had taken the body and hung it up inside his commander's tent. He refused to return the body saying that it would remain with him as a symbol of what he would do to all the other countries.<p>

Instead, the countries gathered for a memorial service. Everyone who possible could be there was there. No one wanted to miss it. Since they had abandoned Arthur to his certain doom, everyone felt guilty and responsible. They knew that they could never atone for what they had done but the least they could do was attend the service to remember him.

* * *

><p>"He was my brother, he was my friend," Alfred said, trying to speak through his tears. "I always loved him and it hurt more than anything not to be able to help him when he needed it most. I always say I'm the hero… Well, I'm not. This just proves it. I couldn't save the one person I desperately wanted to…" Francis bit his lip to stop his own tears but it didn't help.<p>

"Um, Arthur had something he wanted to be read in the event of his death," the timid Matthew said, standing up and going to the front of the large crowd.

He took out a piece of paper and unfolded it. Despite his own sadness and nervousness, he began to read loudly and clearly. Every single country could hear the words as if they were spoken in Arthur's own voice. From his seat in the front row, Francis could see the words written in Arthur's handwriting.

"_If I am to die, as I believe I will, then let it not be in vain,_" Matthew read. "_If I die, let it mean something; let it change something. I don't want to die but I will do so if that is what it takes for the world to realize that it has to stand together. If there has to be a sacrifice, then I will be that sacrifice. If I die, remember me as I was. If I die, don't let anyone else die. If I die, please, oh please, learn from my death. I shall forever remain England, no matter what happens to my body. Don't cry for me. Don't mourn. Move on and do something differently so that this never ever happens again._"

Francis left only a few minutes after that.

Alfred was never again quite the same.

Matthew tried to comfort both Francis and Alfred but couldn't even come to terms with his own grief.

The whole world, despite what Arthur had said, mourned.

* * *

><p>The day was bright and sunny with fluffy white clouds floating in a perfectly blue sky.<p>

"Today shouldn't look like this. It's not right. It's not fair… Do you know what today is?" Francis asked Ludwig in an emotionless voice. Before the country could answer, Francis said, "Today is the anniversary of Arthur's death…" Ludwig laid a hand on Francis's shoulder.

"It will be all right," he said soothingly. "This war is over."

"And yet we still fight," Francis said, gazing across the bloodied battlefield. "Even though there was a formal surrender, enemy forces still come against us." Francis's face hardened. "And I will kill them all."

"You have already done much," Ludwig said, not sure what to say. "You were the one who forced Russia and North Korea to surrender. It is only because of you that this war has come to a close." Forcing Francis to look at him, Ludwig continued, "He would be proud of you, Francis."

Tears gathered in Francis's blue eyes and his composure slipped. Ludwig drew him into an embrace and Francis sobbed silently. Ludwig looked up to the sky, sadness coating his features.

"Y-you said," Francis managed to say. "You said that there was one more thing Arthur wanted you to tell me," Francis said, pulling back and looking at Ludwig. "What was it? I really need to know…" Ludwig sighed.

"Before he died, he asked me to protect you," Ludwig began. Francis nodded. He knew that already. "He then told me that he once told you the beginning of a sentence." Francis's eyes widened.

" 'I desperately love…' " he whispered. Ludwig smiled slightly.

"The last word is 'you'," he said.

Francis put his hands to his mouth in disbelief. _I desperately love you. _Francis could hear Arthur's voice whisper it to him. He could still see that blushing smile after commanding Francis to kiss him. He could still feel those kisses, even over a year later.

"He desperately loved…me?" he asked, staring at Ludwig.

"He always did," Ludwig answered. "You were both so blind…All the rest of us knew." Francis sank to the ground in despair.

"Oh, _mon Angleterre, mon amor…_" he said softly. "Why did everything have to end this way?" Ludwig suddenly tensed.

"Francis, get up," he said firmly. "Get up!" he ordered, pulling the man to his feet. "Another force is coming in, this one larger." Francis sagged.

"I can't do it anymore," he said weakly. "Just let me be killed."

"Let you die at the hands of a defeated enemy?" Ludwig asked incredulously. "Besides my promise to Arthur, that is pure betrayal! _Nein, _I will not let you die!" Francis sighed and grabbed his fallen gun.

"Then let's get to it," he said in a flat voice.

* * *

><p><em>Only two more chapters. And then probably some epilogue chapter(s).<em>


	13. Chapter 13

_Really short but that's how it's got to be. Sometimes chapters are short, right?_

* * *

><p>"Avenging blood with blood," Francis mumbled to himself as he shot down yet another foe. "No, Ludwig, I do not think <em>mon amor <em>would be proud of me for this." Suddenly, the enemy line began advancing.

"Stand firm!" Ludwig called, trying to bolster the Italian army's courage. "Fire! Fire! Fire!" Francis stared as the soldiers came towards him.

"I do not wish to do this anymore," he said aloud, setting his gun down. Ludwig saw him and began to run toward him, shoving soldiers out of the way.

"Francis!" he shouted. "Pick your gun up! Fire! Defend yourself!" Francis did nothing and stood there, watching as the enemies came closer.

"You stupid idiot, I'll have to save you!"

A man whose face was hidden by the maroon cloak he wore leapt in front of him and began shooting rapidly. Each one of his shots connected and he, along with the other soldiers, pushed the advancing line backwards.

"What do you think you were doing?" Ludwig asked, roughly slamming Francis into the wall. "You idiot! How dare you think of wasting the life he tried to save?"

"I don't want to do this anymore!" Francis growled, trying to shove Ludwig off him with no success. "There's no point to living if I'm just going to be miserable! I have nothing to live for anymore! My reason is gone!"

"Your reason," Ludwig snapped, "Saved your life by giving up his!"

"I never asked him to do that!" Francis said, finally succeeding in pushing Ludwig away. The two men glared at each other for a moment.

"What are you two talking about anyway?" The man, standing in front of them, was still hidden from them by the cloak.

"Your accent," Francis said in disbelief. "British?"

"Yup," the man replied, casually leaning on his gun. "We're not all dead, you know." Francis could tell the man was grinning. "Well, nice saving your life, you bloody idiot. Next time don't be so quick to die! There is always good to be gained by living, even if you can't see it now!" With that, the man began to walk away, cloak swirling around him.

"Wait!" Ludwig called after the man. "Who are you?"

"A friend!" the man called back and then vanished into the after-battle dust.

* * *

><p>It had been several months since the last skirmish and the war was finally over. With everyone's help, they were rebuilding England. The progress was slow but no one would rest until the rebuilding was completed.<p>

The countries gathered for a meeting. There was something odd they needed to discuss.

"While out rebuilding, I and several others spotted someone out in the wild," Austria reported. "We believe that it is a new country however, there is one thing that is strange about them. They are already full grown." A murmur of disbelief filled the air.

"Have we tried to find this new country?" Alfred asked, standing up. "If they are really a new country, they need to be taken care of, even if they are fully grown already, which is something that's hard to believe."

"It's n-not that hard to believe," Matthew said but no one really seemed to hear him.

"A new country?"

"Full grown already?"

"Impossible."

The countries couldn't come to a consensus and so the meeting ended unresolved. But now everyone was aware of the unusual new, mature country somewhere in old England.

"I've been waiting for you."

Alfred jumped and prepared to defend himself. There was a strange man standing calmly on Alfred's porch. He was indiscernible because of the maroon cloak he wore.

"Dude, you scared me," Alfred said, continuing his climb up his porch steps.

"My apologies," the man said, bowing slightly. "So the war is over?" Alfred sighed.

"Yeah, finally," he said wearily.

"How many countries were taken?"

"…only one," Alfred said after a pause. "But that was too much." The man scoffed.

"Only one country was taken? That's not bad for a war!"

"It was too much," Alfred insisted.

"How did you fare?"

"I was fine. I got a few cuts and bruises but other than that, no big deal," Alfred answered. "I'm really big so it's hard to injure me too severely."

"Ah, I see," the man said and Alfred sensed a smile in the man's voice.

"You've got an accent," Alfred commented. "You're a Brit?" The man chuckled.

"Yes, I am," he replied. "As I said to someone else, we weren't all killed you know."

"Oh, I know," Alfred said, unlocking his door. "Is there something I can help you with?" He didn't go inside.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing, Mr. America," the man said, still not removing his cloak. Alfred couldn't see the man's face.

"I can't see your face, dude," Alfred said, frowning.

"And that's how I want it for right now," the man responded. "Don't worry, all will be explained in just a little while." Alfred raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, get to the point," he said rather unkindly. The man paused.

"You've changed, Alfred…"

Alfred's eyes grew wide. In one swift movement, he reached forward and flipped the man's hood off. The man made no movement to stop him. Alfred stared for a moment and then began to cry.


	14. Chapter 14

_All right, this is as perfect as I can make it._

* * *

><p>"Francis, you're finally back," Ludwig said, looking up from his newspaper.<p>

"Francis~!" Feliciano sang, jumping at the country and hugging him tightly. "We missed you!" Francis shrugged Feliciano off roughly. "Eh, Francis?" Feliciano asked, puzzled. "Are you okay?"

"Did you two already eat?" Francis asked in a dead voice. Ludwig nodded.

"We saved some for you, if you want some," he replied. "Feli made the dinner. It was quite delicious."

"Ah, thank you, Ludwig!" Feliciano exclaimed, hugging Ludwig. Ludwig blushed slightly and went back to reading his newspaper.

"Oh, by the way," Ludwig said as Francis walked slowly to his kitchen, "America called. He wants you to be at his house tomorrow, if possible. I said I'd relay the message and let you do as you please." Francis sighed.

"Fine, I'll leave tonight," he said. "I don't think I'll have dinner," he said after a moment. "I'm just going to go get packed and get my plane ticket."

"Vee?" Feliciano was confused. Ludwig motioned for him to stay silent, however, and so he did, curling up next to Ludwig instead.

"He's just missing Arthur," Ludwig explained in a soft voice after Francis had gone upstairs. "I'm not sure he'll ever get over it completely…"

"I don't want Francis to be sad," Feliciano said. "If only there was a way that Arthur could come back, then Francis would smile again!" Ludwig smiled sadly.

"But that's impossible," he said. "So we just move on."

* * *

><p>"You've got to keep quiet, you hear?" the man said, trying to calm the hyper Alfred down. "God, you were calm before you threw my hood off. Who taught you to assault people like that, anyway?"<p>

"Dude, how am I supposed to stay quiet?" Alfred shouted. The man cringed.

"Just calm down!" he snapped.

"You have to wear that thing?" Alfred asked, motioning to the cloak.

"It's supposed to be a surprise!" the man replied. "So of course I have to wear it!" Alfred laughed.

"Okay, okay! Whatever!"

* * *

><p>"Stupid, <em>Amérique,<em>" Francis grumbled, hands in his pockets as he walked up the steps to Alfred's house. "I already look horrible enough without losing sleep just to come visit him." Francis knocked firmly on the door and took a step back, waiting.

"Dude!" Alfred shouted, throwing the door open. "Come in, come in!" He practically yanked Francis into the house and Francis resisted the urge to strangle him.

"So what was it that you wanted from me?" Francis asked gruffly.

"Aw, come on! Don't be mad!" Alfred said, dragging Francis to his office. The door was closed. "Just wait here for a sec! I'll say when you can come in!" Francis nodded, rolling his eyes.

"_Oui,_" he said, sighing sadly. He didn't want to be here. Alfred's smiling face was not what he wanted to see. He wanted his _Angleterre. _He wanted his Arthur… Alfred disappeared inside and Francis was left waiting in the hall.

"You ready?" Alfred asked the man.

"As ready as I'll ever be," the man replied, straightening his maroon cloak.

"You can come in!" Alfred shouted and the door began to open.

"What are you doing, _Amérique?_" Francis asked in an irritated voice. He suddenly caught sight of the man sitting in a chair. "What are you doing here?" Francis shouted, shock evident on his face. "Alfred, how do you know this man?" Alfred just smiled and sat down behind his desk.

"Hello, Francis," the man said, taking the hood of his cloak off.

Though he was wearing glasses and his hair was longer, there was no mistaking who it was.

"Arthur…" Francis breathed and then burst into tears. "Oh, _mon amor!_" he cried, kneeling in front of the man. "_Mon _Arthur," he whispered, looking up at the man. "How can this be possible?"

Arthur felt his insides fluttering and couldn't hold back his smile.

"Francis," he began, putting his hands on Francis's face. He then leaned forward and kissed Francis as passionately as he had ever wanted to. When he pulled back, both of their cheeks were red. "I love you too," Arthur said and then kissed Francis again.

"_Mon amor…_" Francis whispered in between kisses. "I love you, I love you…" Arthur pulled away for a moment to wipe Francis's tears away.

"_Je t'aime,_" Arthur said and, even though his accent wasn't perfect, Francis beamed.

"You said it in _my _language," he said and then pulled Arthur down to the floor and onto his lap to begin kissing him all over again. Arthur couldn't remember a time when he had been happier. He had been so worried that Francis wouldn't like his new appearance but, obviously, Francis loved him just the same.

Alfred, unnoticed by both, slipped out his door.

"Well?" Matthew asked, wringing his hands nervously. Alfred grinned.

"All is well," he said.


	15. Epilogue 1

_Just a short epilogue. Kind of fluff. Probably happened that night after they both saw each other again._

* * *

><p>"Francis?" Arthur whispered. Francis stirred sleepily.<p>

"_Oui? _Are you all right?" Francis asked, looking over at Arthur. Arthur smiled.

"I'm all right," he said. "I was just feeling lonely." Francis pulled him close, kissing him tenderly.

"Why lonely?" Francis's voice was gentle as he smoothed Arthur's hair back. Arthur hesitated.

"I was just remembering how it was to die," he said softly. Francis held him tighter. Arthur smiled wanly. "I just can't believe I was given another chance," he said. "I may have a different vision and I may look differently but I still have you." He kissed Francis long and slow. "Thank you for freeing me," he said against Francis's soft lips. "Because of you, I was reborn. Not quite the same but still England nonetheless."

"You shouldn't speak of such things," Francis said, kissing along Arthur's jaw. "You are here now and that is all that matters to me. I can touch you, I can feel you, I can love you. That's all I care about." Arthur sighed in pleasure, willingly tilting his head backwards.

"But I have come to appreciate this moment even more because of how I almost didn't get it," Arthur said in between small gasps as Francis trailed down his neck. He pulled Francis's head up, face red. "I love you," he said. "I love you so much and I almost didn't get to tell you." He shivered. "Thinking about never ever telling you almost makes me feel like dying again."

"Then don't think about it," Francis said, growling softly and biting Arthur's ear. "Think of me and of now. Think of what is, not what could have been." Arthur groaned, tugging at Francis's hair.

"Ah, _je t-t'aime,_" Arthur murmured in his poor French. Francis smirked and bit Arthur's neck harshly. "Ahn, Francis!" Arthur moaned, clawing Francis's shoulder. "It's my turn to be on top!" Arthur could feel himself heating up.

"But we're already in perfect positions," Francis purred, opening up Arthur's nightshirt. "Just let me continue, _mon amor._"

"No~…" Arthur moaned, arching into Francis's touch. "I-it's my t-turn…" Francis just kissed Arthur's chest.

"Why are you complaining?" he asked. "You always like this." Arthur glared at Francis, slapping his hands away.

"I was trying for a romantic moment," he snapped. "I wasn't trying to get in the mood for sex. We've already done it tonight!" Francis pouted. Arthur rolled his eyes. "If you're not going to let me be on top then no sex for you." With that, Arthur turned his back to Francis. Francis couldn't help chuckling. He then snuggled up to Arthur, kissing the back of his neck.

"Mm, I love you so much, _mon amor,_" Francis said in Arthur's ear. "Even if you are stubborn, I love all of you." Arthur blushed and then turned to give Francis a quick kiss.

"Even if you are a love-stricken fool," Arthur said, kissing Francis again. "I love all of you too."


	16. Epilogue 2

"So, let me get this straight," Ludwig said. "You died as a country."

"Yes," Arthur replied.

"You then died as a human."

"Yes."

"But that's where you lose me," Ludwig said, staring in amazement at Arthur. "How did you—? I mean, what could have—? What miracle is this?"

"It's so awesome!" Feliciano sang, still hugging Arthur. "You're back and Francis is smiling again!"

"I'm not smiling at the moment," Francis interjected, peeling Feliciano off Arthur roughly. "Only _I_ get to hold on to him for that long!" Arthur rolled his eyes and brushed Francis away.

"Don't be silly, Francis," he said. "Feliciano is just excited to see me. What's wrong with—mmph!" Arthur was interrupted by Francis's mouth over his own.

"Ah~!" Feliciano said, smiling widely. Ludwig face-palmed.

"Can we get back to trying to explain to me what in God's name happened?" Ludwig asked. Arthur, blushing, stumbled away from Francis.

"You m-may have to lock this idiot up if you want me to explain," Arthur stammered, not looking at Francis. Ludwig raised an eyebrow.

"I could do that," he said and Francis's eyes went wide.

"Ah, _non! _That's not necessary!" he exclaimed. "I'll wait until Arthur is done." Arthur smirked and patted Francis on the head.

"Good doggie," he said and then turned back to Ludwig who motioned for them to sit down on his couch. "I really did die," Arthur continued. "It's not like I just disappeared somewhere or went into a coma. I died. Completely. England became just another part of Russia." Arthur shivered at the thought.

"If it's too painful to talk about you don't have to tell me," Ludwig said in a rush of sympathy. "I'm sorry; I should have said that sooner." Arthur smiled.

"No, it's fine," he said. "Anyway, I died. When the area that used to be England was liberated, it was already a full-fledged country. A new country was born. And that's me."

"So you're actually a new country?" Ludwig asked, bewildered.

"Yes," Arthur replied. "But this 'new' England is practically the same as the 'old' England, so you can't really tell. When I first woke up, I didn't really know what I was doing. I knew who I was, obviously, but I didn't have any of my old memories. As I spotted you all helping to rebuild, my memories came back slowly. That's why I didn't reveal myself at first."

"I wish you had, _mon amor,_" Francis said, putting an arm around Arthur. Arthur rolled his eyes again.

"Everything worked out, didn't it?" he asked and Francis nodded, smiling.

"Now you're back for good?" Ludwig said.

"Yes." Arthur looked at Francis and kissed him gently. "I'm back for good."

"Vee~! I get to kiss you too!" Feliciano exclaimed, pulling Ludwig into a heated kiss. Francis followed Feliciano's example and pulled Arthur forward, kissing him deeply.

"What is this? A kissing festival?" Everyone broke apart, blushing; some because they were embarrassed, others just from happiness. "God, I just came up to get a soda," Gilbert said, eyes wide. "I did _not _expect to walk in to this."

"Ah, sorry, _brüder,_" Ludwig apologized. Gilbert laughed.

"Not a big deal," he said, dismissing Ludwig's apology. "Hey, Arthur, you really are back!" Arthur nodded.

"So you know what happened then?" Arthur asked. Gilbert nodded.

"Ludwig told me," he said. "But I knew as soon as they liberated you that you'd be reborn." Arthur smiled.

"Thank you for talking to me before," he said sincerely. "It helped calm me a bit."

"And yet you still didn't tell good old Franny that you loved him before you died," Gilbert said. "Tsk, you Brits." Francis was staring, mouth agape, at Gilbert. "Something wrong with you, Francis?" Gilbert laughed.

"Wait, _you _were the one Arthur talked to that day in the restaurant?" Francis asked incredulously.

"Yep!" Gilbert said, grinning.

"But I thought…Arthur said…you two talked about love!" Francis sputtered. Arthur took pity on him and turned Francis's face to him.

"I called Gilbert to speak with him about dying," Arthur said slowly and clearly. "While we talked about it, my love for you came up and Gilbert told me that you'd loved me for a long time. That's what we talked about." Francis paused.

"Okay, I think I got that," he said after a moment. "Wait! Gil! Why didn't you let me come see you? Why did you make Arthur send me away?" Gilbert smirked.

"Just because I could," he said, starting to walk toward the kitchen.

"Get back here!" Francis exclaimed, standing up to chase after the man. "You have some explaining to do!" Gilbert laughed aloud and began running.

"Like _you _can actually get me to tell you anything?" he shouted back.

"I'm going to do my best!"

"Ach, what am I going to do with him?" Ludwig asked, sighing heavily. Arthur couldn't help grinning. Things were starting to seem normal again.

* * *

><p><em>I'm already working on two more epilogues so just hang on. :)<em>


	17. Epilogue 3

_Some not quite so "implied" M and a little bit of USxCanada._

* * *

><p>"You are sure that you can drive us home safely?" Francis asked nervously as Arthur unlocked the car. Arthur rolled his eyes.<p>

"Yes, Francis," Arthur replied in an exasperated tone. "I only ever slipped up once driving in America and now you can't let it go!"

"I could drive!" Alfred volunteered cheerfully, throwing his hand in the air.

"_No!_" Arthur, Francis, and Matthew shouted back.

"I-I thought we were going to die last time you drove," Matthew added. Alfred pouted.

"But…I thought you thought it was cool," he said in a sad voice. Matthew sighed.

"I'm sorry but…no," Matthew said, patting Alfred's arm. "But if you aren't driving then you can sit by me in the back," he continued. Alfred perked up.

"Okay!" he exclaimed. "Forget it, Iggy! You gotta drive!" Arthur nodded.

"Yes, Alfred, I was already going to," he said, annoyed. He clambered into the driver's seat while Francis joined him in the front, sitting in the passenger's seat. Alfred dragged Matthew all the way to the back of the car, sitting as close to him as possible.

Arthur turned the radio on as he drove and began to sing along to a very provocative song.

"_I'll eat you up, your love, your love~" _the radio played and Arthur caught Francis staring at him. When he saw the bulge in Francis's pants, the Englishman grinned. Francis blushed lightly.

"And why is it that you are smirking at me, _mon amor?_" Francis asked, trying to ignore his lower regions as they were growing uncomfortable. Arthur's grin grew as he started to dance, at least as much as he could. He began to run his hand along the steering wheel suggestively while licking his lips and knew that Francis knew exactly what he was getting at. Arthur felt his own pants begin to tighten as Francis groaned softly but it wasn't painful yet.

"Ahn~!" Arthur heard suddenly and looked in his review mirror to see Alfred pinning Matthew against the window of the car.

"Hands to yourself, Alfred!" Arthur quickly snapped, parental instincts kicking in. When Alfred paid him no heed, Arthur grumbled to himself. Had he been able to teach the boy nothing?

"Ah~, finally!" Francis said beside him and Arthur saw that he had turned around and was watching the two men go at it, an aroused expression on his face. The frog was getting off on watching them! Arthur whacked him on the head, "hmph"-ing in irritation and was rewarded by Francis flinching and turning around quickly.

"You aren't supposed to watch _them,_" Arthur snarled and then smirked. "You're supposed to be watching _me,_" he finished in a half-whine. Francis's "problem" grew and Arthur knew it was starting to get painful by the expression on Francis's face.

"Oh, _mon dieu, oui,_" Francis whispered, completely aroused now. Arthur glanced in the review mirror again to check on Alfred and Matthew and was shocked to see _a lot _of skin.

"Boys!" he yelled, succeeding in getting their attention. "Keep the clothes _on! _We're almost to the house anyway!" Alfred pouted but then perked up hearing that they were almost back to his house.

"Oh, I'm going to be doing you _so _hard, Mattie," Arthur heard him say, moving back over the country.

"I wouldn't want it any other way. I want you to pound me into your mattress," Matthew breathed back and Arthur's eyes grew wide. Ah, well, the boy _had _been raised by Francis.

Speaking of Francis…

Arthur yelped and nearly crashed as Francis's hand closed around his clothed erection.

"Francis!" he hissed. "Not while I'm driving!" Francis's sulk was just too cute to resist so Arthur decided to do something else instead. Reaching over, he slowly unzipped Francis's pants, Francis's eyes becoming wider with each click of the zipper.

"_Mon dieu…_" Francis breathed and Arthur grabbed him tightly, making Francis whimper.

"That's _not_ whose name you're supposed to be calling," he growled and Francis nodded painfully.

"Y-yes, Arthur," he stammered, grimacing. "N-now could you…?" Arthur held on tightly a moment longer and then, satisfied, began to uncover Francis's lower regions.

By the time they reached Alfred's house, Arthur's hand was covered in cum while Francis's labored breathing reminded Arthur of exactly how much power he really had over the country. However, his own package was getting slightly painful and he moved in his seat to get some friction.

"We're home!" Alfred managed to gasp somewhere in between trying to merge he and Matthew's faces together. Without hesitating another second, he grabbed Matthew and leapt out of the car, flinging the front door open and bounding up the stairs.

"_Mon amor,_" Francis purred in Arthur's ear and Arthur shivered. "It seems as though you have a 'problem', _non?_" Arthur groaned loudly as Francis cupped him through his pants.

"God, Francis," Arthur gasped. "Just take me inside already. I don't think I can walk." Francis was only too happy to comply and Arthur was grateful that the frog had at least zipped his own pants back up. Arthur didn't want anyone else, especially any American citizen, seeing those vital regions. Those were reserved for England only.

* * *

><p>"<em>Can't stop thinkin' of the things I wanna do to you,<em>" Francis sang seductively in Arthur's ear once they were inside their bedroom. Arthur closed his eyes in pleasure, rubbing backwards into Francis's crotch. Francis made a loud, pleasured noise and Arthur smirked.

There was no way Francis was topping.

* * *

><p><em>Ah ha, just some funny stuff. One more epilogue and then this story is over. I'll be sad to see it go…<em>


	18. Epilogue 4

_Last epilogue…_

* * *

><p>Arthur tried to control his racing heartbeat. It was just a phone call! It was no big deal! The ringing on the other end of the line sounded so loud and Arthur hugged a pillow tightly.<p>

Things were almost back to normal. Arthur had left his hair long and could even put it back into a ponytail if he wanted to. He was considering cutting it again, however, since he just wasn't used to seeing himself with a hair-do like that.

His vision was still altered but he could live with that. Sometimes it was good for a country to change how they saw things and he had been told many times that his glasses made him look even better. Francis had said that it took people's attention away from his bushy eyebrows. Arthur had, obviously, attacked Francis brutally for that remark. Well, just Francis himself, not the actual country of France.

The phone clicked and went to the answering machine.

Arthur hung up and threw his phone down angrily. A few moments later he plucked up the courage to try again. The night outside was quiet and Arthur felt strange calling someone this late. Maybe they were already asleep?

"Hello?" a voice said groggily, answering the phone. Arthur felt his face flush.

"H-hello," he stammered, hoping the other person on the end of the line wouldn't be able to tell how nervous he was.

"_Mon amor, you_ are calling _me_ now?" Arthur held the phone away from his ear and was faintly reminded of how Alfred answered the phone.

"Pipe down, you idiot," Arthur snapped, blushing even more. "I was just…" He searched for the right thing to say. "I, well, I…"

"You missed me, _non?_" Francis said for him and Arthur buried his face in his pillow in embarrassment.

"Um, yeah," he mumbled. Francis laughed.

"I missed you too, _mon cher,_" Francis said and Arthur could hear him shift positions.

"I, uh, didn't wake you up, did I?" Arthur asked anxiously. Francis chuckled.

"I was drifting off, _oui, _but I can think of no better way to be woken up," he replied in a romantic voice. Arthur suddenly gasped.

"I forgot that you've had meetings this whole week!" he cried. "You haven't gotten much sleep! I'm so sorry! I'll hang up now, if you want." The truth was Arthur didn't want to hang up. He wanted to stay on the phone for hours. He had really missed hearing Francis's voice.

"_Non!_" Francis exclaimed and Arthur couldn't help but smile. "I wish to speak with you! Do not hang up, please, _Angleterre!_" Arthur sighed.

"All right, fine," he said, pretending to be irritated. "But we can't talk long because you need sleep."

"I have all of tomorrow's meeting to sleep," Francis answered making Arthur laugh.

"But you're not supposed to sleep in meetings, silly," Arthur said and then felt like an idiot. What was wrong with him? He sounded just like a girl calling her first boyfriend! _And he is __**really**__ not my first, _Arthur thought to himself.

"You're so cute, Arthur," Francis laughed drowsily. "How about we talk until I fall asleep to the sound of your voice?" Arthur blushed deeper.

"Um, o-okay," he stammered. "That will work." He heard Francis sigh sleepily.

"What are you wearing, _mon Angleterre?_" Francis asked suddenly. Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"Why?" he asked suspiciously.

"I want to envision you," Francis breathed making Arthur shiver.

"I have on a white button-up shirt with a green vest over it," Arthur began. "And then I'm wearing some gray slacks."

"Mm, take the vest off," Francis hummed. "Take the vest off, _mon amor, _please?" Arthur blushed but set the phone down and took his vest off, throwing it to the side, not really caring where it landed.

"Okay, it's off," he said, picking his phone back up. He could hear Francis breathing.

"Now your shirt," Francis whispered and Arthur blushed. "But do it button by button and imagine me doing it," Francis added.

"Bloody—! W-why should I do that?" Arthur snapped back, face hot. He heard Francis's sleepy chuckle.

"Because I think it's sexy and you do too," Francis replied. "The top button. Now." Arthur was tempted to resist but he really didn't want to. He moved his shaking hands to his shirt.

"I'm undoing the first button," he said into the phone.

"Now the second," Francis said.

"The second is undone."

"The third."

"Third undone."

This went on with both men slowly beginning to breathe more heavily until Arthur's shirt was unbuttoned all the way.

"Now slip it off your shoulders, just as I would, _mon Angleterre,_" Francis commanded. "My hands running along the skin of your shoulders as your white shirt falls behind you… And then I stare at your perfect skin, taking you all in." Arthur gasped slightly as he let his shirt fall to the bed.

"O-okay, it's off," he stammered, slightly aroused. He knew Francis was smiling.

"I wish I could be there with you," Francis said after a moment's pause. "I want to cuddle with you."

"No sex?" Arthur asked, surprised. Francis must _really_ be tired. "How much sleep have you been getting?" Francis hesitated.

"The meetings have been going on all week," he said. "I've gotten a couple of hours each day…maybe." Arthur frowned in concern.

"Francis," he said sternly. "You need to be going to sleep right now." Francis sighed.

"But I want _you,_" he said and Arthur smiled.

"I know," he replied. "I want you too," he said after a pause. "We've both been so busy with meetings. We haven't been able to visit each other." Francis sighed again.

"If I could, I would give up everything just to be with you right now," Francis said and Arthur could hear the sadness in his voice. Arthur suddenly thought of something.

"Francis, is it okay if I hang up the phone now?" he asked and Francis's frown was obvious even over the phone.

"But why?" Francis replied. Arthur smiled.

"_Je t'aime,_" he said in an awkward accent. "You need sleep."

"I told you, I don't need—" Francis began but Arthur cut him off.

"I know," Arthur answered. "Just trust me, okay?" Francis paused and Arthur was afraid that Francis was going to hang up.

"I trust you, _mon amor,_" Francis finally said. "I will sleep. For you."

"Sweet dreams," Arthur said and then, blushing, kissed into the phone.

"Ah, I liked that," Francis breathed, kissing back. Arthur blushed deeper.

"Maybe you'll see me in your dreams, love," he said. "Good night."

"Arthur, wait!" he heard Francis exclaim and put the phone back up to his ear.

"Yes?" he asked.

"I love you, Arthur," Francis said and Arthur smiled again.

"I love you too, Francis," he replied and then hung up the phone.

Arthur made another quick phone call and then got busy, even though it was getting even later. He had this opportunity to do something for Francis—the same Francis who had always been there for him—and he wasn't about to miss it.

* * *

><p>Arthur walked up to the dark house, trying to be as quiet as possible. It was now early the following morning but the sky was still dark. Arthur felt strange to still be up at this hour but smiled when he thought of how Francis would react.<p>

He got a key out of his pocket and opened the door softly. Picking up his heavy bags, he walked in and then shut the door behind him. He left his bags by the door since he wouldn't need them until later and then crept down the hall.

He opened the bedroom door, thanking God that he had oiled the hinges the last time he was here, and a soft smile grew on his face when he looked inside.

Francis lay underneath the canopy of his large bed, blonde hair fanning out across his pillow. He was clutching one of Arthur's shirts as tightly as he could and his face looked pained. Arthur's smile became slightly sad and he crossed over to his lover.

"Francis, love, I'm here," he said gently, brushing the hair from Francis's face. Francis stirred and Arthur looked down at him as his blue eyes opened.

"_Angleterre?_" Francis asked, blearily staring up at him. Arthur nodded.

"My meetings aren't mandatory and so I've come to stay with you for a little while," he said in a quiet voice. "Besides, you need me and I need you. I flew down as fast as I—" Francis interrupted him by pulling him down for the softest kiss they had ever shared.

Arthur's smile was incredibly genuine and he was reminded all over again of just how deep and true Francis's love for him truly was. Francis kissed him again, still the same gentle, loving kiss, and then pulled him down into the bed with him.

"_Mon Angleterre,_" Francis breathed, small tears of joy trickling down his cheeks. "My Arthur," he said, taking Arthur's jacket off and then holding him close and breathing in his scent. "This makes me so happy…so happy." Arthur snuggled closer.

"I figured it would," he said. Francis tilted his face up so that they were looking into each other's eyes.

"What did I ever do to deserve this?" Francis whispered, kissing Arthur again.

"You let me know exactly how you felt," Arthur replied and when Francis looked slightly confused he added, "You let me stay in your touch. And that's where I always want to be." Arthur blushed and then kissed Francis again. Francis cuddled Arthur, head on Arthur's chest.

Sleepily, Arthur ran his fingers through Francis's hair, watching as Francis fell back asleep. This was perfection, Arthur thought. This surely was heaven.

"I love you, Arthur Kirkland," Francis murmured, barely able to put the words together as he was falling asleep. Arthur smiled gently down at him.

"_Je t'aime, _Francis Bonnefoy," he replied, kissing Francis's head. Francis sighed and then relaxed.

_Hello, world, _the two countries thought together—_together_—and then sleep claimed them.

…End

* * *

><p><em>That's the official end. <em>

_I thought maybe I would explain a bit of why I wrote this story and how I came up with it, if you care to read about that, that is. _

_USxUK was the more natural pairing for me but then, one day when I was bored, I looked up some YouTube videos. I found one called "In His Touch" done for FrUk. I was intrigued and then watched the video, just to see what it was about. I cried and then couldn't stop watching it. It was so sweet and fit perfectly. (If you have the time, go look it up!) _

_I then looked up the shared history of England and France, just to see what was really in the history. Turns out that France actually really does love England. England loves France too, just secretly, or at least that's what I got from the history I read. (No offense intended if this information is incorrect.) Of course they had wars and stuff but I'm talking about nowadays. Like, modern. _

_Anyway, I thought that was interesting and then wanted to write a story where France had to realize his true feelings for England and England had to realize his true feelings for France. As a writer, I then had to add some plot (the beginning of WWIII) and some hardship (the fact that England was going to die before either of them realized they could be together). _

_With the YouTube video, the history, and the story plot outlined, I then had to pick a title. I had kept re-watching the YouTube video and, since that was what inspired me, that's what I used. And so, "In His Touch" was born._

_Last, but really not least, THANK YOU SO MUCH for reading and for all those who reviewed! I really appreciated the fact that you guys took the time to review. It always made me feel good when you did. Seriously, THANK YOU!_

_Btw, I __**may**__ be writing a USxCanada one next! Ideas, comments, and/or questions are very welcome!_


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